An Act of Desperation
by Cherenmay
Summary: After the passing of a new law and the death of her husband, Hermione finds herself in danger of being thrown out of the wizarding world. To stay in her home, she makes a deal with a most unlikely person. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
1. New Laws and Departures

This is a new story idea I had, so I decided to write it. It might be long, it might be short, it all depends on the reviews I get. So, read on!  
  
Disclaimer: It's sweet really that you think I own it, but I don't!  
  
An Act of Desperation  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 1: New Laws and Departures ~`~`~`~`~  
  
The day dawned brightly and rays of mellow sunlight wafted into a second story rather-plain flat bedroom. Inside could be seen two figures close together upon a large bed with heavy blue down coverlets in the middle of a sparsely furnitured, but spotless, abode. With a bit of time, the rays grew lighter and brighter as they shone upon the two bodies on the bed. They fluttered over the gleaming painted walls and reflected onto the thin skin of a woman's eyelid. The eyes opened slowly and blinked a few times before coming into focus.  
  
The woman was called Hermione Granger-Weasley and she had just awoken on the morning of May 8, 1999. They sun was warm, the blankets warmer still, and the arm that lay about her naked waist was the warmest of all. She smiled sleepily and cuddled into the finely muscled chest of the man beside her. At the moment, she didn't care that the day had begun, or that her husband was expected at work that day, or that she had a huge amount of cleaning to do in the front great room. All she cared was that she was warm, she was cozy, she was happy, and felt completely refreshed from the night's rest or, rather, lack thereof. With a slight grin she lazily brought her arm up around him to fall back into deep and lovely slumber.  
  
Her movements woke the other occupant of the bed and he looked down at the mass of honey brown curls sprawled across his chest, belonging to his beloved wife. She was asleep again, but he decided that, it being their anniversary, he had other plans for her than sleep. As gently as he could he unwrapped her arm from him and untangled his fingers from her hair. She gave a soft snore, but didn't wake. He leaned down and kissed her on the bridge of her nose, hoping that the slight stirring would awaken her. She merely flicked her hand across her face as though scratching an itch. With an amused smile, he leaned forward and figured that he might as well go for the gusto. He roughly put his lips against hers. Of course, she awoke with a start.  
  
He released her from the kiss with a laugh as he took in her wide open eyes and gaping crimson lips. "Ron!" she cried breathlessly. "Did you have to do that?"  
  
He stroked her cheek with one calloused finger. "'Course I did, love. It's morning and you ought to get up." She mockingly glared at him.  
  
"Oh, Ron, really," she sighed. "I don't have to get up if I don't want to. It's not like I have work or anything. Besides, you know what day it is. I thought we could have a bit of a lie-in." As she spoke, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her.  
  
He smirked. "Do I? Let's see... It's Saturday, I have work, and you have a couple of house chores that you put off yesterday. I don't see anything special on that list, do you?"  
  
Her hands tightened warningly in his hair. "Are you saying you don't know what today is?" Her whisper had a short and sharp tone and her manner was no longer teasing.  
  
"Of course I do, of course I do," he laughed at her. "Today is Anniversary Number One."  
  
Slowly her fingers began their light strokes through his hair again. "Good. I'd thought you'd forgotten for a moment there."  
  
He smiled at her lovingly. "How could a man forget the best day of his life?"  
  
Upon hearing the words, tears sprang into her eyes and her heart felt like it was expanding to the point of explosion. "Oh, Ron." She pulled him closer down over her and kissed him passionately.  
  
Feeling he had successfully flattered his wife and managed to get her to exactly where he wanted, Ron decided that having a willing and beautiful woman beside him every morning was the very best way to start any day. He pulled her up to him, loving the way the soft skin of her breasts on his chest sent shocks of electricity through him. He could feel the feather- light touches of her fingers tracing lines up and down the planes of the muscles in his back and the wet and frantic movement of her lips beneath his. Already passion and desire were mounting within him and he knew that the same was happening to Hermione. After all, they were young, too young perhaps, and married.  
  
But, as is the way of life, their lovemaking had barely begun before they were disturbed by the insistent tapping of an owl on their one window. Ron growled low in his throat and detached his lips from those of his wife. He turned to the window with venom in his eyes. Had looks been able to kill, he knew he would have been explaining to his neighbors why an owl corpse was in the middle of the road later that day. Fortunately for the owl, Ron was no terribly smart (he let Hermione take care of that sort of thing) or terribly cruel (he figured there was enough cruel people already) wizard. He merely stood and opened the window to admit the hooting messenger in.  
  
"Thank you," he said gruffly as it dropped its message and departed. He picked up the piece of parchment and scanned its contents. His face drained itself of color. "I don't believe it," he mumbled. "I simply don't believe it."  
  
Hermione, now completely worried sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled on her robe. She walked over behind her husband. "What is it, Ron?" Her voice was hushed and hurried in uncertainty.  
  
He turned to her with a wry and shocked grimace. "I don't believe it!" he cried. "Look at that!" He handed her the letter disbelievingly.  
  
Her curiosity piqued, she took it from him and looked at what it said.  
  
"By Order of the Ministry of Magic  
  
Following the demise of You-Know-Who and the recent election of Minister Lucius Malfoy, all wizards or witches of Muggle lineage are hereby banned from the Wizarding world. Exceptions are made for those married to someone of wizard parentage or are parents themselves of wizards or witches.  
  
Signed,  
Lucius Malfoy  
Minister of Magic"  
  
Hermione stared at the paper in absolute shock. In the back of her mind, she cursed the day that Fudge had ever let Malfoy go, free of charge. He'd said that the Malfoys were model wizards and ought to be excused from such slight discrepancies of character. Everyone knew they were guilty of aiding Voldemort and of killing numerous Muggles and Muggleborns. It sickened her to think that he had now become Minister of Magic and had created such a law that banned nearly every Muggleborn witch or wizard in the entire United Kingdom community.  
  
She turned to her husband. "Can they do that?" She hoped desperately that he'd say 'No, it simply isn't done' or something of the sort, but he merely looked at her grimly.  
  
"I'm afraid he can, Hermione." He ran one square hand through his red hair angrily and began pacing around the room. "Damn that man!" he yelled to no one in particular. The sound reverberated through the room. Hermione flinched and Ron, noticing, sighed and gathered her into his arms.  
  
"It'll be all right, 'Mione," he soothed, feeling her trembling slightly. "It won't last long, you'll see. The Wizengamot, they'll vote it down. Just wait and see." He placed a few calming kisses on her mass of curly and bushy hair.  
  
Just as she had begun to gain control of her body, there was a sharp knock on the door of the flat. Both Hermione and Ron jumped in surprise. Ron, being ever the gentleman, stood, wrapped himself in a robe, squeezed his wife's arm supportively and went to go answer the door.  
  
She hugged her arms about herself and rocked slightly on the balls of her feet. She didn't want to believe that it was true. She couldn't make herself believe it. All those children with powers they'd never learn to use, all the students who'd have to leave the school they'd just discovered, all the unmarried men and women who had yet to really live in the wizarding world, all those yet unborn who would never have the chance to know what they could have become. It was all too much to bear. They'd never get to stay. She felt guilty, in a way, for being married to a pureblooded wizard. They'd leave while she stayed. The taste of magic would now forever be bittersweet to her.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron called from the front room. "Hermione, come here! You'll never believe it!"  
  
She looked at the door uncertainly as she pulled her robe ties closed. Sighing, she opened the door to find herself staring into a pair of shocking green eyes.  
  
"Harry?" she cried, after recovering from the shock. "Harry, is that really you?" She took in his disheveled hair, his crooked glasses, and the faint lightning shaped scar on his forehead. All spelled Harry Potter in her mind. "Oh, Harry!"  
  
She threw herself at him and hugged him so tightly that she knew he must be having trouble breathing. She released him and proceeded to pound him with questions.  
  
"Oh, Harry! How did you get here? The last we heard of you, you were in India! What are you doing here? How have you been? Why are you here? Oh, Harry!" Once again, she wrapped him in a tight embrace.  
  
By the time she'd finally recovered her senses, she let him go again. He laughed along with Ron at Hermione before deciding to answer the questions.  
  
"You, Hermione Granger, have not changed one bit since school," he teased. "Still the same rapid fire questioning and totally confusing theatrics."  
  
She smiled indulgently at him. "And you're still the same Harry Potter I see. Always making fun of me. And it's not Hermione Granger anymore, you know. It's Granger-Weasley." She blushed at his smile at the hyphenated name. "You know I couldn't give up the Granger. Besides, it still allows Snape to feel superior and call me Miss Granger whenever I visit either Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Well, Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley, to answer your questions," he smirked. "I Apparated, of course. Quickest way to travel, you know. And I was in India until yesterday. I had to come for some, uh, business." He glanced at the floor shiftily for a minute before continuing. "I've been absolutely fine. India's quite the place for fun. And the food's spectacular if you know where to go. Their wizarding community's really interesting. You'd like it there."  
  
Hermione was immediately distracted by the thought of the Indian wizarding community. "Is it really quite interesting? I've read about it, you know. I've read all about the buildings and the schools and the--" she caught on to his ploy. She shook her finger at him like she would a naughty child. "Oh no, you don't, Harry. You're trying to get me off topic. I want to know why you're back in England and didn't send us any prior notice. We haven't seen you since..." She trailed off as she remembered.  
  
The last time that anyone save Dumbledore had seen Harry was nearly a year ago, right after he'd defeated Voldemort. It was at the funeral service for all those who had died protecting Hogwarts from the attack in early June: Professor Flitwick, Dean Thomas, Susan Bones, Mad-Eye Moody, Orla Quirke, Colin Creevey, Morag McDougal, Zacharias Smith, Ernie MacMillan, Hagrid, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Sinistra, Madam Pince, and numerous others that Hermione hadn't known by name. But the biggest blow to her, Harry, and especially Ron, had been the numerous Weasleys lost. Arthur had been killed by the Death Eater Nott at the beginning of the battle as he was defending the gates. Charlie fell to MacNair near the Forbidden Forest. George was killed in the Great Hall, along with Bill, while keeping the Death Eaters from reaching Dumbledore, Harry, and Voldemort as they fought their Last Battle. Fred, Molly, and Percy were not killed but were grievously injured when one of the staircases had crumbled with them on it, along with their Death Eater opponents. Ginny, the youngest and perhaps most precious of the Weasleys fell to Voldemort himself as she blocked a killing curse meant for Harry Potter. Hermione could remember seeing the girl caught up in a flash of brilliant neon green, the terror in her eyes so fierce, along with the love she felt for the man she protected. As Ginny's crumpled form fell to the ground Hermione heard the cry of dismay, disbelief, and grief from her dear friend. She herself was too busy fighting beside Ron against half a dozen Death Eaters to be of any help. Still, she knew that Harry was hurting and that he probably would not have beaten Voldemort if it hadn't been for the anger and guilt and agony he felt at the death of his beloved Ginny. After the service, he'd disappeared for months without a word. They didn't receive a letter until nearly December. And now, here he was and she had to bring up bad memories.  
  
She looked up at him with sincerity. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean--" He held up a hand.  
  
"No worries, Hermione," he said with a strained smile. "It's all over and done with now." She glanced at Ron who looked pale and grim. She mouthed him an apology as well, but he didn't seem to see her. "Besides," Harry continued, "I came here to tell you good news, news that should make you happy."  
  
Hermione turned hopeful eyes back to her friend. "Really, Harry? What is it?"  
  
He grinned and opened his arms in a wide shrug. "I'm married!"  
  
Hermione, expecting many things, was not expecting this. "Married?" she managed to get out through her shock. "To who?"  
  
He shrugged again, a sheepish smile on his face. "Hannah Abbot," he answered quietly.  
  
She stared at him. "You married Hannah Abbot?" He nodded. "Oh, oh my goodness. Wh--When did you--I mean, why did you--? Oh, Harry, you married Hannah Abbot!"  
  
Harry laughed at her. "Yeah. I met her again in India. Seems like she was supposed to marry Ernie MacMillan, but when he died, she went and pulled the same number I did. She went off to India to, I dunno, escape, I guess, and I met her. We've been friends for a while and we decided that we ought to come back here. You know, face the past and all that. We came to Dumbledore and he welcomed us back pretty well, I suppose. We were still talking with him about the whole Battle when an owl came in. This was yesterday morning. It was telling Dumbledore about that stupid law banning Muggleborns from the wizarding world unless they were married or had children. Well, Hannah's a Muggleborn* and she didn't want to go back to the Muggle world, I didn't want her to go back to the Muggle world, and since she doesn't have any children, we took the only other solution. Dumbledore married us right then and there. It was simple, really."  
  
Hermione's brain took a minute to catch up with her friend's words. "I can't believe it Harry!" she squealed after she got all the information registered. "You're married!" She hugged him tightly and released him suddenly. "But you're so young, Harry. You're only 18!"  
  
He laughed at her. "Yeah, I'm only 18, but you and Ron over here," he jerked his thumb at the lanky red-head, "You guys were only 17. And still in school." She blushed.  
  
"Yeah, well, you know very well why we married when we did, Harry Potter," she answered hotly. "The threat became more dangerous at that time and we decided not to wait. And you agreed wholeheartedly too."  
  
Harry laughed again and hugged her. "And I still do, too." Hermione pushed him away teasingly and smiled at him.  
  
Just as she opened her mouth to ask him more questions, the door to their flat was pushed open roughly. A very worried and dirty looking Remus Lupin banged in. "Ron, Harry!" he panted. "Dumbledore's sent me. A gathering-- of Death Eaters--in Surrey. Told me to--get help. He needs us--as fast as possible."  
  
The feeling in the room had changed as swiftly as it had when Harry returned to meet with the young pair of Weasleys. The faces of Hermione's husband and friend turned from happy and carefree to grim and set. She knew that they would leave and she'd be left behind. She would undoubtedly be able to help them immensely, but she wouldn't be able to go due to Ron. He always made sure that she stayed home. He didn't want her to get into danger; he didn't want her to get hurt. It was the same story every time and every time Hermione ended up sitting at home fretting about what might be happening to the people she loved best. It was very frustrating.  
  
Ron hurried into the bedroom and a second later appeared wearing a pair of Muggle jeans and a heavy jumper. He hurried over to his wife as he tried to snap the clasp of his robe. She did it for him and kissed him soundly on the mouth.  
  
"Be safe," she whispered to him, holding him close for a moment while Harry and Remus pressured them on.  
  
"I will," he promised. With one last kiss and a swift embrace he and his companions were gone, leaving Hermione with wringing hands to wonder and worry.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Well, that's the first chapter. Please tell me what you think!  
  
* I don't remember it ever saying in the books whether Hannah was a Muggleborn or not, so I made her one for story purposes. Correct me if she isn't. I'll try to think of another name to change it to. 


	2. Grief and Bargains

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! More than I expected, to tell you the truth.  
  
Cynewulf: Wow! So far, you're the only one who commented on the improbability of my Minister! A cookie for you! Well, just to say, I had to make an antagonist and, being a little lazy, decided not to make up my own. It's easier this way. And yes, I will address the situation in more depth later. I also agree about the OOC-ness going on with Hermione, so I made a little explanation in the next chapter. I just wanted her not to be there for this fight. About making a companion fic, I hadn't thought about it, but I just might do that...eventually. I want to get out as much of this as I can first, but I'll get it out. Probably soon.  
  
To all my other reviewers: thanks soooooo much! And you all said that you're pretty sure Hannah's a Muggleborn, so Muggleborn she stays! And read on!  
  
Disclaimer: Well, it has to be said, I own Harry Potter. *beat* Just joking! *cricket chirps* Ah, well, I knew I was never that good at jokes.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 2: Grief and Bargains ~`~`~`~`~  
  
The minutes passed, then an hour, then three hours. Before long, half of the day was gone and still the men hadn't returned. Hermione, in a fit of restlessness and anger, had paced around the entire flat 784 times, then had tried breaking a few dishes to vent out her overwhelming emotions. It hadn't helped much and only gave her more work to do repairing them. By the time she had finished, the sun had begun to set and the room was becoming darker and darker. Not for the first time would she curse her husband's desire to get her to stay home. He had begged and pleaded with Dumbledore for some way to keep her safe in their flat while he went off with the Order and faced who knew what kind of dangers. Eventually, after she'd nearly been killed in a minor battle against some of the younger Death Eaters due to her own foolishness, he'd agreed. He'd placed an enchantment on the door that gave Ron the explicit right to keep her in if he muttered the incantation as he left. At first she wouldn't mind, but after they were gone for about five minutes she would get restless and nervous and always felt like a caged animal. She flipped on some lights and looked around her through narrowed slits of eyes. Now, as the clock read 6:27, she sat down in frustration and fury.  
  
'How dare they leave me here,' she thought to herself. 'How DARE they leave me here!' She beat her hands on the table as she stood and began to pace again. Each circulation gave way to increasingly angrier and angrier and more and more curious thoughts. Seven hundred and eighty-five...'I wonder what could be taking them so long? They ought to be home by now!'...Seven hundred and eighty-six...'Ooh, that Ron! I hate these damned spells that he has Dumbledore do. "I don't want you to get hurt," he says. Well, I don't like being bound to the flat anymore than they like going out there to get themselves killed!'...Seven hundred and eighty-seven...'What in HELL could be keeping them this long?! It was just a simple Death Eater meeting! There should've only been ten there at the most! It doesn't take nearly twelve hours to take care of ten uppity Death Eaters!'...Seven hundred and eighty-eight...  
  
The numbers went on and Hermione's nerves became more and more frazzled. Outside there was no longer any light at all save a few streetlights and the occasional star. She stood beside the window and held the sill so tightly that she could feel the nails holding it to the wall begin to give way. With a howl of frustration she turned and began her rounds again.  
  
By the time she'd reached 1028, the front door swung open. Without a thought to her appearance (she hadn't even bothered to shower in her worry or dress either, for that matter) ran to see who it was, her robe ties flying out behind her.  
  
A shaken and scruffy looking Lupin stumbled in. She grabbed him by the elbow carefully and set him down in one of the threadbare chairs in her and Ron's sitting room. Her heart had begun beating painfully upon not seeing her husband or Harry enter with her old professor. He sat with his head resting in his trembling hands. She knelt beside him, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins all the way down to her toes.  
  
"What happened, Professor?" she questioned softly. "Where're Ron and Harry? Where is Ron?"  
  
He lifted his head from his hands to look her in the eyes. His long sandy hair seemed dirtier, stringier and far less like its usual perfectly groomed normal state. She noticed the dark veins in his eyes and how red rimmed they were. His face seemed more drawn and peaked, paler too, if that were possible. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Hermione's voice grew more frantic and insisting.  
  
"Professor, where is my husband?"  
  
The blood drained from his face even more. "I--Hermione, he's--oh, Gods. Hermione, it was a trap." He turned away from her. She gripped the seat of his chair tightly, half not wanting half needing to know.  
  
"Professor," she began again, more sure of herself this time. "Where is my husband?"  
  
"I--Hermione, it was a trap," he repeated. "They knew we were coming. We weren't prepared for them. There was so many, way more than we had anticipated. There wasn't enough of us. Only Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, the Longbottom boy, Ron and myself. We were outnumbered. They attacked. We were caught off guard. We were separated. We were captured." He turned back to her, pain and shock in his soulful eyes. "You wouldn't have believed it, Hermione. There were over a hundred there. I thought we had gotten pretty much the last of them at that battle in Wales. But they're even more than before. And--" his voice cracked. "And Hermione--if you'll believe it--I could have sworn that I saw Him."  
  
There was no doubt in her mind who the "Him" was. "Voldemort?" she whispered. "But--you can't possibly mean?--He's dead, Professor! I saw him fall! I saw the burning of His body! He can't possibly be alive!"  
  
The man shrugged. "I don't know how it could be, either, Hermione. But if it wasn't Him, then I don't know who else it could have been." He took a deep shuddering breath. "They took us; the Death Eaters did, to some place nearby. A house of some kind, or a mansion. I didn't even know if the others were still alive. I was put in some cell-like place and my wand was taken. I could see a little, there was a small window near the ceiling. And I could hear things. Mostly just some sort of drain, but after a few minutes I heard footsteps. One of them opened the door to my cell and threw in someone. After I was sure they had left, I went over to see who it was. It was Harry, but he was a little dazed. He'd been hit with some sort of curse that I've never heard of, but he was all right for the most part. He said that he'd been brought to me after they'd questioned him a bit. They were sour with him, he said. Most of them wanted to kill him, but the leader, the supposed Voldemort, wouldn't let them. They brought him to me and we were there for a few hours at least."  
  
Hermione stared at him, mesmerized. She could feel the horrible ending coming, but was willing it not to. "Yes, Professor?"  
  
Lupin took a shuddering breath. "While we were there, we realized something. Across the way Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, and Neville had been imprisoned. They heard Harry and I speaking and yelled at us. While the guards were gone we could hold conversations. We formed a plan. Snape, in all his greasy glory, had thought to bring with him a supply of potions, one of which was a Dematerializing Brew. I don't know how he got them past the guards. He drank it and became, er, less than solid, I suppose. I'm not really all that good with Potions," he added apologetically. "He went through the cell door and somehow managed to get the keys. I'm not really sure how he did it, but he got them. He unlocked our cells and at the moment we heard the guards return, we sprung out, attacked them, took their wands and apparated back to Headquarters." He sighed and averted his eyes.  
  
She waited a moment before asking the question that had not yet been answered. "Professor, where is my husband?"  
  
Returning his eyes to lock with hers, she could see the deep frown lines etched between his brows and near his mouth. His hands moved fluidly from his lap to rest on hers. "Hermione, I--I don't rightly know how to say this--" he floundered for words to say. "Hermione, he--he was attacked...from behind," he added for clarification. "He--he got hit with an Unforgivable." Her breath caught in her throat.  
  
"What--what are you saying?" she struggled to get the words out of her mouth.  
  
"Hermione, he--he fell; an Advada Kedavra right in the back. Dead before he even hit the ground."  
  
His words seemed to echo through the room and her head spun. Ron. Fell. Avada Kedavra. Dead. Ron. Dead. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "No, it's not true," she managed to whisper. She stood up, anger filling her. "No!" she screamed at him. "It's not true! NO!"  
  
"Hermione," he began pleadingly, reaching his arms out to her. "Hermione, please--"  
  
She backed away from him. "No! You're lying! It's not true! It isn't!" She felt her back hit the wall. Ron. Dead. Ron. Unforgivable. Dead. Gone. Forever. The words didn't make sense. It was all too much, too much. She tried to hold on to the wall for support. Ron. Dead. Forever. There would be no more meals together. No more laughing about trivial things. No more night-time romps. No more holidays together. No more signing letters "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." No more sitting up into the late hours of the night just looking at the stars. No more waking up together in the morning. No more little words of love every day. No more hugs, or kisses, or laughter, or vacations, or anything. And the future she'd planned. It was all a waste. No house in the country. No children to name after the aunts and uncles they'd never have. No watching their children go to Hogwarts for the first time. No growing old together to have grandchildren. No eternity together forever.  
  
Lupin came up beside her on the ground and gathered her into his arms. She hadn't even noticed that she'd sat. He rubbed her back haltingly over the jumps it made as she breathed. She hadn't even noticed she'd begun crying. He rocked her back and forth on the floor in a soothing manner. She didn't even notice that her arms had found their way around him.  
  
All that she could feel was the pain, the despair, the sinking, drowning, dying feeling. All she could understand was that the one man she'd ever truly loved had gone and left her without even a proper goodbye; just a promise that he had failed to keep. With that thought, she cried out somewhere between what could be called a scream and a sob. Her world had just fallen apart before her very eyes.  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
"We gather at this site to mourn the passing of our dear friend, Ronald Weasley."  
  
Dumbledore stood at the head of a freshly dug and covered grave in the Weasley plot in the local Wizarding cemetery. A fine crowd had gathered; full of the Order, Aurors, Ministry workers, professors, and, of course, numerous Weasleys from all corners of the globe. Many stood stock still, holding down their hats in the traditional honoring manner. A few others cried softly into handkerchiefs held near their face. Hermione stood limp and bedraggled beside Harry and Molly Weasley.  
  
Ever since the death of her husband the day before, she hadn't done much of anything. Her hair hung about her head like a brown bush, neither shining, nor soft, nor combed. Her skin looked greasy and unclean, her face was pale and damp, but whether it was from tears, sweat, or a combination of the two no one could tell. Her whole being was in ramshackle condition. The only reason she still wasn't in her same bathrobe was because Hannah, Harry's new wife, had managed to maneuver her into a dress for the service. But though she looked terrible, it was her eyes that caused people to pity her. They were listless and staring, but not seeing. They looked like two droopy pools of emptiness. She barely stood on two feet as Dumbledore spoke of her husband; spoke of his bravery, his valiance, his kindness, everything that had made him dear to so many. Hermione heard none of it.  
  
The service ended finally and people walked solemnly past what was left of what was now left of the once happy and boisterous family Weasley: the dangerously thin and frail woman that had once been the plump and motherly Molly, a tall and lanky man with a sprinkling of freckles and horn rimmed glasses that shielded tired and sorrowful eyes of who had once been the pompous and overbearing Percy, and the stooped figure of a man called Fred who had lost his desire to laugh and play since the death of his twin. All were mere shadows of their former selves. The Weasleys were neither prosperous, nor happy, nor many any more.  
  
Harry and his plump wife tried to escort Hermione back to her little old flat, but she kept shaking them off with a whispered, "I'm staying here. Leave me alone." Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trying to talk her into going home, they promised to leave her be. With one last glance over his shoulders at where his two best friends stayed, Harry left leaning heavily on the shoulder of a tearful Hannah.  
  
As soon as Hermione was sure that Harry had left, she collapsed to the ground beside her husband's grave. The sun was harsh and unrelenting, but she didn't notice as she curled up beside the upturned earth. Her hand ran absently up and down the length of the grave. Her eyes welled up with tears that fell as quickly as they came. She began to speak in a strangled and shaky voice.  
  
"You promised you wouldn't leave me," she sobbed. "You promised you'd be safe. Don't you remember? It was just yesterday. I told you to be safe. You said 'I will' and left. But you lied. You broke your promise. You weren't supposed to leave me. You lied, you..." Her voice trailed into broken weeping.  
  
The hours passed until the sun was nearing the horizon. She hadn't moved from her position even after the tears had stopped to be replaced with a heartbroken ache. Her hand continued to go up and down the grave as though she were trying to remember the place of every grain. She couldn't remember ever feeling this bad. She couldn't remember ever feeling this sorrowful. She couldn't remember ever feeling this helpless. She couldn't remember ever feeling this lost. She was Hermione, the know-it-all, the one who always had a solution, the one who wouldn't allow herself to get caught unawares. But here she was now, Hermione, the one who has felt too much, the one who has heard too much, the one who has had to live through too much. This wasn't the way that Hermione was supposed to feel.  
  
She was brought out of her reverie by a voice. "Hermione?"  
  
She turned her head to gaze at that which had disturbed her. The uncertain eyes of Remus Lupin looked back down at her with sorrow. She stared at him for a moment before turning back to the dirt.  
  
"Hermione, I--I wanted to say that I truly am sorry for your loss. Ron was a friend to us all. He--"  
  
"Just go away, Professor," she whispered dully. "Just leave me alone."  
  
He shifted from one foot to the other, turning his hat around nervously in his hands. "But, Hermione, I really need to speak with you."  
  
A sob threatened to tear through her throat. "Can't you leave me alone, Professor? Just go away."  
  
He hesitated for a moment, obviously thinking that over in his mind. "No, I--I can't, Hermione. You must listen to me. Tomorrow the Ministry will send you out of the Wizarding World never to return. You know the law that...the Minister...," his voice portrayed his distaste, "made concerning Muggleborns. You are no longer married to a wizard, nor do you have children. You'll be sent back to your parents to live the rest of your life as a Muggle."  
  
Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't thought about that stupid law since the owl had arrived. Why did it all have to happen now and all at once? Why did that law had to have been made now? Why had Ron had to die now? Why had she had to be alive right now? It all wasn't fair. She'd led a perfectly good life and now...everything was in ruin.  
  
"Why do you tell me this now, Professor?" she asked through a sob. "Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?"  
  
He shifted uncomfortably. "I would have, Hermione, really, I would have, but you see, it can't wait. It may be too late to deal with tomorrow. You must stay here, Hermione. You must not leave."  
  
She turned over to look at him. "And what can I do, Professor? I haven't got anything. No good solution. Like you said, I'm not married and I haven't got any children. It doesn't look good for old Hermione, does it?"  
  
"But don't you see?" he cried. "That's the whole point! You're not married. But if you were, then they couldn't make you leave."  
  
"You're not making sense, Professor. My husband's dead in case you haven't noticed. Who am I supposed to married to without a husband?"  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Me! Don't you get it? You marry me!"  
  
She stared at him. "Marry you?"  
  
"Yes! It's the perfect solution to both of our problems. I've got too much to take care of that I can't handle. Ever since Tonks was killed, I've been left all alone with little Evie to take care of and I don't know how to do it. I've tried, but I haven't the slightest clue how to handle a two-year-old girl. I need your help and you need mine. Right now, I don't see any other alternative."  
  
Hermione had forgotten. He and Tonks had married before the war just as she and Ron had. But unlike herself and Ron, they had had a child. And then Tonks had died. She'd met little Evie a few times and seen how much like Tonks she was, but she didn't know if she could do what Professor Lupin was asking of her. It felt like a betrayal to Ron to marry someone else the day after he had died. It just felt wrong.  
  
He fell to his knees beside her on the hard ground. "Listen, Hermione, I need you right now and you need me. Can't you see that it's the only way? I promise that you needn't love me." He laughed bitterly. "Hell, you won't even have to sleep in the same room as me. I don't care. I just don't want you to go. And neither does anyone else for that matter. We'll make it a bargain. You marry me, but the minute you meet someone else, someone who will love you the way you ought to be loved in marriage and you love in return, we'll divorce. In return, you merely help me take care of Evie. Is it a deal? Will you agree, Hermione?"  
  
She looked at him with sad eyes. It was a difficult decision and she didn't know how to answer. On the one hand she felt guilty for considering the proposition of another man so soon after Ron's death, but on the other hand she had absolutely no desire to leave behind the only world that had ever really accepted her. When she thought of it that way there was really no decision to make.  
  
She sat up and stared directly into her former Professor's eyes and saw only fear and sadness and a few faint traces of hope there. If anything else, it was the hope that made up her mind. She knew that he needed it as well as her and that everything that was to come before them would depend upon that little bit of hope. She reached out her hands and placed them on his.  
  
"It's a deal," she whispered. He pulled her into a warm embrace and she burst into tears again, but she didn't know if this time she was crying for Ron, or for herself.  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
Another chapter! Well, I hope you'll review and tell me what you think. Until next time! 


	3. Proposals, Proposals

WOOHOO! I love getting reviews! Thanks all of you guys! This is more than I ever expected to get!  
  
To seb1: Thanks for telling me about the story and movie. I thought my plot sounded familiar, but I don't think I've read or seen that movie. Well, I hope you'll forgive my oversight and continue reading anyway!  
  
Disclaimer: (thinking) maybe if I wish really hard, I'll own Harry Potter. *Scrunches face and wishes* Nope, didn't work. All still belongs to J.K. Rowlings. All but plot, which I'm sure probably belongs to someone else too.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 3: Proposals, Proposals ~`~`~`~`~  
  
Hermione reluctantly pulled her face from her former professor's shoulder. She looked up into his red rimmed eyes sadly and shakily got to her feet.  
  
"I have to go now, Professor," she whispered. "I need to go home. I--have to--" She couldn't will herself to say that she wanted to get away from him. After all, he had offered to marry her to keep her in the Wizarding world. It just wasn't polite to tell your fiancé--your betrothed--your husband to be--oh, heck, your professor that you wanted to be left alone and away from him. But then again, these were odd circumstances. Maybe the normal "Mistress Manners" routine didn't apply to these sorts of situations. Well, in that case--"I just want to get away from here and-- think." She looked at the ground. "Alone."  
  
He gazed at her for a moment in understanding before standing up and taking her by the hand. "Right," he said soothingly. "Of course you do. I'll walk you home."  
  
She pulled her hand from his. "No, no," she said to him. "I know the way home. You don't have to." She really just wanted to be alone. She didn't want his sympathy or his pity.  
  
"I don't have to," he responded carefully. "But I want to."  
  
She glared at him half-heartedly for a moment before apathetically heading toward her flat a few blocks over. Lupin matched his steps to hers, making sure that she didn't fall or head in another direction. Each step she made further became more hesitant and shaky. After not even a score, she was starting to turn back to the grave. "I don't want to leave him," she cried softly to no one in particular.  
  
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Hermione," he said to her beseechingly. She defiantly turned her head away from him. "Hermione," he tried again. "Look at me." Never one to outright disobey a teacher in front of them, she turned her head back and locked her wet eyes with his. "Hermione, you can't waste your life blaming yourself or Ron for what happened. None of it was either of your faults. You need to go on, and, as cheesy as it might sound, Ron would've wanted it that way."  
  
She looked up at him unbelievingly, but was really too tired to even think of arguing. She leaned on his arm and let him lead her back home.  
  
The walk out of the cemetery was short and as soon as they had passed the gates, Remus had held her tightly by the hands and apparated straight to the door of the flat. He pushed the door open carefully and gently brought her into her front sitting room and settled her down in the closest chair. He looked up and cried out in surprise at what he saw.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
The thin, lithe body of Harry Potter was sprawled out on another mismatched chair in the homey room. Beside him on a cushioned footstool was his wife who looked understandably upset and nervous. The black-haired boy looked up to his professor with blank and heavily circled eyes.  
  
"Wh--what are you doing here?" Lupin sputtered. The surprise at seeing another grieving party had completely addled what was left of his reason. "I thought that you'd gone home?"  
  
Harry grinned humorlessly. "Didn't feel like going home," he responded. "Thought I'd wait for Hermione to get back and maybe talk to her a bit. Reminisce and stuff. You know." His face paled considerably as he thought of Ron and all of the things that they had done together.  
  
The professor ran a hand through his graying hair listlessly. "I don't know, Harry...Hermione's had it pretty rough. I don't think she really wants to talk all that much. Especially about--er--" He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "About stuff," he finished lamely.  
  
Hermione's head tilted up swiftly. She glared venomously at Lupin. "Of course I want to talk!" she spat. "It's only natural for me to want someone to talk to, I mean, it's not everyday that a person loses their husband and then plan to get married the next day." She laughed harshly and without feeling and a sad light appeared in her eye. "Ron called me a 'scarlet woman' once and I suppose that I've finally lived up to the title." She laughed once more, but the sound quickly turned into a dry sob.  
  
Harry and Hannah stared at them in bewilderment. "Marry?" Hannah squeaked. "Why--Why do you need to marry?"  
  
The new widow fixed her with a stony gaze. "I thought that you, of all people, would understand, Hannah. Though I don't rightly care where the hell I end up, the Professor here has different ideas. He wants to marry me to keep me here in the wizarding world, and I suppose I want to stay." The shaky smile she had on her face quickly disappeared. "Though, I must say, I had hoped to stay under better circumstances."  
  
She leaned against the nearest wall in exhaustion as she replayed the story of a few minutes before. Both Harry and Hannah listened in what could only be called 'silent anticipation' and Lupin had the decency to shift uncomfortably when Hermione managed to recount his little speeches down to the letter. Ash she finished a trembling Hannah (Hermione recalled her as being overly emotional at school, but now she was grateful for the empathy that the plump little woman provided) rushed over to her and took the still Mrs. Granger-Weasley into her arms.  
  
Perhaps it was the pressure of the moment, or the pain in her chest, or the presence of two of the most respected men in her life, or the overwhelming feeling of humiliation towards herself that caused her to break down, but more likely it was a combination of the three. She felt the warm arms come tight around her and she couldn't hold in any of her dignity. Tears were not in her nature despite the fact that she'd cried a few recently, but full blown hysterics was not something Hermione Granger-Weasley was prone to. She could hear her own cries echoing off the undecorated walls of her home and could feel the salty streams running down her face. The pain in her throat was nearly unbearable and her eyes stung from all the crying.  
  
It seemed like hours she cried, long ago giving up on the battle to keep the tears in. The sobs soon quieted, if only so that she could rest for a bit and start them up again. But as soon as she released Hannah and fell backwards into the chair nearest her, the door of her home swung open.  
  
"Miss Granger!" cried a snide and sneering voice from her entryway. "Miss Granger, where in the devil's name are you?"  
  
Not even caring who it was, she answered back. "I'm right here, you imbecile. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm not really in the mood for company, so could you please go back the way you came and kindly bugger off!"  
  
A tall forbidding man came beside her and Hermione could feel the waves of anger and embarrassment at her words emanating from him at high speeds. In reality, she knew she ought to have been meek and obedient and kind and that she ought to take back her words, but at the moment, she didn't give a damn.  
  
"Miss Granger," the voice continued, though a bit more forced than it was before. "Would you please stop acting like a spoiled child and look up at me." She complied, of course, but once she had looked at the speaker, one Professor Severus Snape by name, she completely flew off the handle.  
  
"Who are you to tell me how to act, Professor? I've seen you get angry and yell far worse things a million times in my life and I've never once said a word, until now. And I don't think you have the right to tell me anything that pertains to my behavior. I've lost my husband, Professor, in case you haven't noticed and I'm not about to forget it anytime soon, though it seems that you have." She jabbed her finger in her chest angrily. "So don't you bloody well tell me how I should act, because I'll act the way that I jolly well please."  
  
The thin and greasy Potions master took a step back from the volatile female before him. He turned to Lupin and Harry for help, but both were too busy glaring at him for upsetting Hermione again. He shook his head to clear it for a moment before he tried to speak to her once more.  
  
"Miss Granger," he began, "I know as well as anyone that your husband's dead. I was there, in case you've forgotten. I was the one who managed to save us all from almost certain death in those little cages, but I can't guarantee lives once outside of them." He waved his hand dismissively. "Besides, that's not even the reason I've come here. I know about that stupid law that the...Minister...proposed and I'm as...displeased with it as the rest of you. But this morning before the funeral, the Headmaster approached me with a solution." Hermione leaned forward with anticipation despite her best efforts. "He told me that I might offer myself to you in the form of a husband." She slumped down into the chair once again.  
  
Snape looked at her from narrowed eyes. "I take it that means no, eh, Miss Granger?" She looked up at him and was surprised to see a shadow of wounded dignity and pride in his eyes.  
  
"No," she responded. "I mean, yes. Oh, I don't know. That's the second proposal I've received in the last hour, sir. I've got myself two choices, and, at the moment, your position isn't looking to good since I've already agreed to the first one. And besides, I--"  
  
She was cut off by the sound of her door opening again. In stormed a puffing and red-faced Neville. He stood against the wall behind Hermione and panted out his story. "Heard--Professor Dumbledore and--Professor Snape--talking at--Headquarters. He's going to come--and try--to marry you. Didn't think that--you'd want to--marry--Snape, so I--came to--ask you--to marry--me--instead. What--do you--say?"  
  
Hermione laughed dryly and humorlessly. If the situation weren't so real, it would have been preposterous. She shook her head tiredly and laid her hands over her eyes. All she could think of was how much she wished it were yesterday morning.  
  
"I can't marry you, Neville," she whispered to him, her breaths short and raspy. "You see, Professor Snape here's already proposed and--"  
  
The still slightly pudgy boy stared at her, crestfallen and disbelieving. "You accepted him, Hermione? I--wow, I didn't think you'd actually consider marrying the sli--I mean, the professor. Well, to--to each his own, I suppose."  
  
She laughed once more, harsher and more vulgar to the ears. Releasing her eyes from her hands, she looked at her former bumbling schoolmate with weary but grimly amused eyes. "No, Neville, I didn't accept him, I--"  
  
Once again, he cut her off. "If you didn't accept him, why don't you accept me? I mean, I know I'm not the greatest wizard, but nobody wants to see you leave. Especially all of us in this room." He glanced at an indifferent Snape quickly. "Well, all right, most of us don't want you to leave. So why don't you just say yes? We can get Dumbledore to do the ceremony immediately and--"  
  
Now it was Hermione who stopped him. "No, Neville, like I said before, I can't marry you. You see, I've already accepted someone else's proposal. Professor Lupin's, in fact. So, you see, I can't--"  
  
"Lupin!" Both Snape and Neville seemed dumbfounded by the news she'd just shared with them.  
  
"Yes, Lupin, he asked me first." Again, she laughed darkly. "As they say, 'first come, first serve.'" She groaned and leaned forward onto her knees, cradling her face in her hands.  
  
Harry, Lupin, Hannah, and Neville knelt beside her immediately, each taking a different appendage; Harry rested a hand on her knee reassuringly, Neville gripped an elbow, Hannah rubbed a shoulder, and Lupin took a hand from her face and cupped her cheek soothingly. Hermione didn't appreciate the attention and stood quickly, knocking the quartet away from her.  
  
"I don't need your pity!" she all but yelled at them. "Just leave me alone! Just leave me alone." She stormed to the door of her flat and whipped it open to see the face of the person she least expected to see there.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Well, another chapter. I know it's shorter than the other two, but the next installment is nearly done and won't take long to complete. Please review, I enjoy receiving your opinions. 


	4. Explanations, Vows, and More Explanation...

All right, I know I said that I'd have the next chapter out quicker, but I had a lot of unexpected surprises (huh, that was sort of redundant, eh?) at home and didn't have any free time to finish it until today. So, sorry about that.  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers for their input and here we go with the fourth installment of "An Act of Desperation."  
  
Disclaimer: As you all know, I did not write Harry Potter, so I think you also all know that I do not get paid for this little story. So, yeah, no money for me! Just your kind reviews (hint, hint), so read on.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 4: Explanations, Vows, and More Explanations ~`~`~`~`~  
  
"Dumbledore!"  
  
And, indeed, it was he. Hermione stepped back unwillingly from the door into the arms of a shocked Lupin. She shrugged him off forcefully and glared for a bit before returning her full attention back to the aging Headmaster before her.  
  
"Pro--Professor? What are you doing here?"  
  
He smiled softly and warmly, like a fire in a wood cabin fireplace in the middle of winter, making Hermione feel oddly safe and comforted. "I came to see you, Mrs. Weasley."  
  
She looked up at him, almost fearful of what he might say, but more for what he might know. "Wha--What about, sir?"  
  
"About some recent happenings. And something that requires your and my immediate attention." He walked into the flat's kitchen and took a seat at the small table. Hermione followed slowly and took a seat beside him. Hannah positioned herself beside her former classmate, already taking the role of protective mother hen. Harry sat beside her and took her hand in his and stroked the top of it lightly. The mere sight of it caused Hermione to remember earlier when Ron had done the same thing to her when she was upset. Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly brushed them away with the swipe of a hand. She turned her eyes to Dumbledore and tried her hardest to focus on what he said.  
  
"I know that we're all aware by now of the new law and that it requires Hermione to marry or leave. I also know that Hermione has received quite the variety of propositions ranging from Neville to my colleagues Professor Snape and Remus Lupin. I know as well that Hermione's agreed to Remus'. We need now to make sure that she understands the full weight of her decision to marry him. You see, I also know that it wasn't just care for Hermione that pressured Remus to ask her for her hand in marriage."  
  
Hermione looked up at Lupin in surprise. If it wasn't just care and fear for her well-being that prompted the proposal, she couldn't even begin to fathom what other reasons could have taken part in it. He returned her gaze a bit sheepishly, but just as intensely as he always had. Before long, she had to look away.  
  
"You see, last night, after the dreadful event in which we lost Ron, there was a meeting at Headquarters," Dumbledore continued. "You, Harry, and you, Hannah, weren't present. You came to Hermione's before it began and returned long after it was over. Anyway, we discussed Hermione's position and how we could avoid it. Other than the fact that we could hide her away in Grimmauld place, the only other solution was to have her marry. During our discussion, I spoke with Severus and asked him, as the only unmarried man present who could care for her in a way that was fit." He turned to Hermione apologetically. "I did try to approach the two other Weasley boys, Percy and Fred, but they had already promised to marry two of their Muggleborn friends and, well, they are your brothers-in-law. It could have been quite the situation for you, my dear." He turned then to Lupin. "I am sorry that I didn't think to ask you, Remus, but I know that you have recently lost Nymphadora and I had no desire to ask this of you."  
  
Remus stared coolly back at the man he most respected. "I wouldn't have expected anything else, sir, but I didn't think that Hermione would agree to Snape's proposal, and I didn't know of Neville's, so I thought that she might agree with me. And I do care for her, sir."  
  
Hermione stared at him for a moment before looking down at her hands.  
  
"Yes, of course, Remus. It was very thoughtful of you." Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him seriously. "However, we will have to immediately perform the marriage ceremony. I have the suspicion that the leader of these Death Eater revolts is giving orders to capture the best friends of the famous Harry Potter. Since Ron has already been captured and, and please pardon the crude expression Hermione, taken out of the picture, there only remains his wife. If she goes out into the Muggle world tomorrow, she will, more than likely, be snatched up in a matter of hours. Her safety was, and still is, top priority, and I need to be sure that you both know that once you two are married that you will be expected to live in Grimmauld Place or as nearly to it as possible."  
  
Both nodded solemnly.  
  
Dumbledore smiled briefly, the usual bright twinkle finally returning. "Well, then," he continued, a bit more jovially than before. "Let us get on with the marriage." He pushed his chair back on the cold kitchen linoleum quickly and stood. Everyone looked up at him expectantly. "Stand please," he prompted after a minute of silence.  
  
Everyone, obediently, stood.  
  
"Remus, Hermione, take each other's hands, please."  
  
They complied.  
  
"Now, if you, Harry, and you, Hannah, would be so kind as to take your places beside the bride and groom, we can begin."  
  
They took their places and Dumbledore began.  
  
Within a matter of moments, the vows were complete, the kiss had been kissed and the congratulations had been said. They sat down at the kitchen table hand in hand. Hermione tried to pull her hand away from him, but Remus only held it tighter.  
  
Grudgingly, she quit trying to remove her hand, but the minute he loosened his grip, she yanked it away and folded her arms about her chest so as not to lose control of it again.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry called to her from beside the door. "Could you come here for a minute?"  
  
She looked up at Lupin, a little uncertainly, and then went to meet her friend.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "What is it?"  
  
He grabbed Hannah's hand in his and reached for hers with the other. "We're going to be leaving now. Go to Headquarters. Me and Hannah'll be living there for a while until we can find our own place. I hear that you and Remus will be moving in there to after a few days. Dumbledore told us. You guys are to have a few days to yourself first. A...honeymoon of sorts. We'll look after Evie till you get back. Then I suppose we'll all be like one big happy family." He hugged her quickly, pulling Hannah around them as well. "See you in a couple of days, 'Mione."  
  
She watched the two Potters, and then a jogging Neville, leave her flat in stunned and accepting silence. Professor Lupin had forgotten to mention the fact that she'd be moving to Grimmauld Place to live with the Order. She could have sworn that Lupin had his own flat nearer to Hogwarts than her own. London was too far from the home she loved and the people she had known for a year since she and Ron had moved in.  
  
She closed the door behind them and returned to Remus' side near Dumbledore and Snape. She listened to them talking for a few minutes before she couldn't take it any longer. All they spoke of was the Order and new missions. She wanted them to stop speaking of the missions that were killing all of the people she knew and had come to love. She wanted to hear of happy things like Harry and Hannah's marriage, or whether Cho and Aidan Quinn had had their baby yet. She stood quickly and whipped her chair out behind her.  
  
All the members that still sat looked up at her in surprise. She glared in response. "I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Lupin." She nodded at them in turn before retreating in the direction of her bedroom.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
She turned around to face her standing former Headmaster. "Yes, sir?"  
  
He smiled at her genuinely, the sparkle bright and pleasant in his eye. "I, too, shall be taking my leave of you. Would you please see me to the door?" She nodded the affirmative and opened it for him.  
  
Right before he exited the small flat, he whispered to her quietly. "I am truly sorry that your fate has come to this. But remember--even from the most desperate of actions one can find happiness again. And I do wish you all the luck." He winked once and walked swiftly down the hall and away from her.  
  
She returned to her course once more and passed the two remaining men seated in her kitchen. As she walked by, she could hear Snape whisper snidely to her new husband.  
  
"Married and she still calls you 'Professor'?" She could almost see the sneer on her old Potions Professor's face. "Really, old man, I wouldn't expect much of anything from her." The voice grew quieter and more venomous, but she could still hear it if she strained. "I guess the Honeymoon will be rather...lacking, won't it?" She didn't need to see his face or the crude hand gestures to know what he meant. She whipped around quickly to face the sallow faced and hook nosed man and slapped him soundly across the face.  
  
"Don't you ever say anything like that again," she spat dangerously. "Don't you ever." And with that she quickly entered her room, slammed the door, and locked it behind her. She leaned against the stiff wooden door and slid down its length to the floor. When she hit the ground she felt the tears fall from her eyes in streams.  
  
Too much. That's what it was. She could feel the pain inside. And the confusion. And the fear. She could hear the sounds of Remus yelling at Snape and, in a sense, protecting her from men and remarks like him. It made her feel happy and safe and angry and guilty. She wanted to yell at him to stop being husbandly and she wanted to embrace him for telling Snape what was what. She leaned her head against the wall and tried to catch her breath and stop the tears, which did, after a few minutes, slowed.  
  
Standing slowly, Hermione made her way to her unmade bed and fell on it. It hadn't been since that fateful morning that she had laid on it and now, when she set her head close to HIS side, she could still feel him. The place was still warm, or so it seemed, as though he had just gotten up to make some coffee or to go out and read the Daily Prophet in the kitchen. She could feel the tears rise, but she held them down.  
  
A knock sounded on her door, shaking her out of her almost hypnotic trance. "Hermione?'  
  
Lupin. Of course. She didn't know who else she had expected it to be, but the minute her door had been rapped with a fist, she felt her heart leap into her throat.  
  
"What do you want?" She had no intention of being truly kind to him, no matter how nice he'd been to her.  
  
She could almost feel him hesitate, even though she could not see him. "May I speak with you?"  
  
She stood up and walked towards the door. "Aren't you speaking with me now?"  
  
"No, I mean face to face."  
  
Still never one to disobey an order straight to a teacher's face; she obliged his wishes and opened the door. Before she even looked at him, she headed back to her bed and sat on the edge, her eyes facing the floor. "What do you want, sir?"  
  
He laughed humorlessly. "You needn't call me 'sir', Hermione. I'm Remus. Not Professor, not Lupin, just Remus."  
  
"All right, REMUS," she said, emphasizing his name. It felt foreign on her tongue. She had never called any of her teachers by first name before. "What do you want?"  
  
Remus sighed heavily. He lifted her face up to face him by her chin. "I want you to listen to me. Listen to everything." She nodded quickly.  
  
"I didn't marry you because I didn't think that you wouldn't accept Snape's proposal. I knew you would because he'd make you realize the position of the Order and of yourself. I didn't ask you because I needed help with Evie. The two of us are fine. Whenever I need help I have Molly there and she knows what she's doing when it comes to babies. She's had enough of them. I asked you because I knew that no one else could care for you the way you needed to be cared for. Snape couldn't care less, really. He feels guilty for not being able to save Ron, but he would not take the time to care for you and make sure that you were all right. His days would be spent in the dank and the dark while he tried to make some new plan or potion for the Order. Neville would try, sure enough, but he is too foolhardy and too inattentive to be of much use to anyone. He tries, but that's about all he can do. You need someone who can be there for you. Now don't think that I'm so sure of my abilities, but I know that no one else could ever satisfy your need for affection. I do care for you Hermione. Really, I do." He took her hand in his.  
  
She had been very complying up until that point. She believed his reasons, though they disappointed her a bit, but she knew there was still more he wasn't willing to say. Then, when he had taken her hand, she had snapped. She pulled it away quickly.  
  
"Don't, Remus, don't," she whispered. "Don't touch me. I--I don't want anyone to touch me right now." She stared at him. "Especially you, sir. I don't love you or anyone else. I don't want to be touched. Don't. Please, I--" She stood up. "Please leave me now, sir. I'd rather be alone right now. You know, to--to think this over. I'll speak with you in the morning."  
  
He stood up, his shoulders slumped and his face weary. "Right. Of course." He walked to the door. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night."  
  
He walked out of the room, turned off the lights, and closed the door. She could hear his footsteps walking to the other end of the sitting room to the couch. As soon as she was sure that he was lying down, she lied down as well. Her thoughts came and went in the soft moonlight and the tears did as well.  
  
She wiped her cheeks. Crying wasn't something that Hermione did. Crying was for small children and babies and old menopausal women. Not for Hermione. Hermione had known pain throughout her child, she had known worry, she had known stress, but she had never really known loss. Now that she did, she wanted nothing more to be a small child so that she might have reason for her useless tears. But Ron had always said she was like a little girl in her curiosity and need for knowledge. Maybe her tears were warranted. Letting out a stifled sob over thoughts of Ron, she rolled over and tried to sleep, but it wasn't until dawn nearly broke that her eyes finally closed.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ I know, I know. It was sort of a lousy and short chapter, but the story will get better with time. Just review and I'll try to get the next chapter out soon! Thank you guys! 


	5. Packages and Breakfast Conversations at ...

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I love to get them, so please keep reading and reviewing!  
  
Disclaimer: Must I really continue this? I think everyone knows what it means, so let's just pretend that it appears on every chapter here on out. What say? Well, go on, read the chapter!  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 5: Packages and Breakfast Conversations at the Three Broomsticks ~`~`~`~`~  
  
Hermione's sleep had only begun when she heard the light "Tap, tap, tap" of an owl at the window. Her eyes snapped open and she sprung from her bed on high, if a bit unbalanced, alert. She noticed the small barn owl hovering near the bright pane of glass. She walked over to it and carefully opened up the latch and lifted the window. Though still a bit woozy from lack of sleep, she could tell that it was a Ministry owl and came bearing important news, but whether it was for good or for bad, she could not tell.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered to the owl as it set down its burden in her outstretched hands. It hooted softly in response before flapping its wings and turning around to return to the Ministry's Owlery.  
  
Carefully she broke the wax seal and opened the thick and ornate parchment. Noticing the fancy script and messy scrawl at the bottom, she began to read.  
  
"Dearest Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley,  
  
"Our sincerest condolences are brought to you upon hearing the untimely death of your husband, Ronald. Arriving in a few moments after you finish reading this a larger messenger owl should be delivering the insurance money your late husband invested in in case of the unlikely event of his demise. All of us here at the Ministry of Magic are most grieved to see that you would need it so soon. Also, according to the new order set by our esteemed Minister of Magic, you must be notified that a train ticket to Muggle London will be included with the money so that you might return to your parents and remain in the Muggle world. With that, please let it be known that your husband shall be much missed, as shall you. Good luck to you.  
  
"Sincerely,  
Saroya Platt  
Director of Magical Insurance"  
  
Hermione dropped the letter on her nightstand and sat back down on her bed, glaring at the cleanly written words and the dirty message hidden in them. Barely two minutes had passed, in which she spent none of it thinking or even moving, when the promised owl flew in through the forgotten open window.  
  
It was larger than the first, perhaps four or even five times more and it carried a large package that must have outweighed it by at least five kilos. She watched it set down the nice brown paper package tied up with strings, smiling softly as she remembered the Muggle song from a musical she'd seen as a child with similar lyrics. As soon as it had relieved itself of the load, it flew off, not even waiting for Hermione to do or say anything.  
  
Without thinking, her hand instinctively reached over for the lopsided twine bow at the top of the box, wanting to open it and see exactly how much money her husband had left her, before she could even stop herself. As soon as her fingers gingerly brushed the rough paper wrappings she snapped them back as though burned. She stood swiftly, warily eyeing the package. 'Better to open it later,' she thought. 'I'll let the Professor-- er, Remus--do it. He should like to know that he'll finally have enough money to patch up his robes properly.' Moving reluctantly away from the box of money she headed to her door and opened it slowly.  
  
She stepped out into the still and silent sitting room, glancing carelessly at the dusty shelves and messy carpets. Her eyes lit upon her couch last, and upon its occupant. Remus. Her Professor. Her husband. He looked so tired there, sprawled across the cushions with a wild abandon, his too tall feet hanging over the one far end. His sandy and gray hair lay about his head like a dim crown framing his careworn and lined face regally. Even in sleep he was serious and intimidating. Everything about him reminded her of an old patriarchal wolf. He was aged and wise, but terribly frightening when he felt that he or any of those he cared for were in danger. She leaned forward over him slowly, not thinking of anything except for the fact that he was so much like the animal that lay untamed and wild inside of him. She tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from his brow behind his ear.  
  
The movement must have caught his attention for in the next second his hand whipped from his side to grab her wrist dangerously tight and he sat up in a startled fighting stance. Hermione squeaked in unbidden fear at the sudden change in his character, only further reminding her of the animal inside.  
  
"Hermione?" he questioned upon seeing her face. He let her go sheepishly and pulled his feet down to the ground so that he might look a bit more presentable to his new young wife.  
  
He sighed and looked at the ground swiftly. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Hermione," he scolded gently. "Especially when I've been sleeping. You never know how I'll react."  
  
She tried to make her lips curve into a smile, but it was as if the muscles in her cheeks had gone numb. Instead she opted for a neutral shrug before sitting on the low coffee table beside the sofa. "Sorry."  
  
Remus waved his hand impatiently, dismissing the apology. "Never mind, no harm done. But what are you doing up so early?" He squinted at the window. "The sun's barely risen."  
  
"I know," she answered him quietly. "But the owls woke me up so I came out to make something to eat."  
  
He cocked his head to one side quizzically, much like a dog would. "Owls?"  
  
She turned towards her room, looking blankly at the door, but seeing the unopened package perfectly in her mind. "Yes. They brought a letter. And a package."  
  
"Well, I suppose sympathy letters? A little money from friends to get by on?"  
  
She nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that." She shook her head absently, clearing it of the thought of the package. "Um, would you like some breakfast, sir?"  
  
He looked about to correct her but smiled humorlessly and let it pass. "Sure. Sounds great." He stood and offered her his hand, which she very obviously ignored. He pulled it back uncomfortably as she stood up unassisted. "Would you like some help?"  
  
She scoffed. "I don't need that much help going out to the Three Broomsticks, now, do I?" She wrapped her arms about herself, trying to push out the slight chill of the early morning, and smirked at his surprised expression. "It's one of the advantages to living in Hogsmeade, you know."  
  
He smiled softly and picked up his robes from the chair it was haphazardly hung on. As he put them on, he watched Hermione wrap her noticeably Muggle coat over the dress she had worn yesterday and failed to change out of before going to sleep.  
  
She opened the door to the flat, waited for him to exit, then stepped out and locked it behind them with a quick spell. She turned to him. "Do you mind if we apparate? I don't really feel like walking all the way there. Too tired, you know."  
  
He raised his eyebrows in concern before quickly lowering them lest she noticed. "All right. You first."  
  
With two light pops they had disappeared from the hallway of the building and into the main room of the Three Broomsticks which was, thankfully and blissfully, empty. Remus pulled out a chair from the nearest table for Hermione, but she openly moved to the other side and seated herself. Staring at her blatantly for a moment, he sat in his open seat.  
  
He folded his arms in front of him on the table and, with a strained but jovial smile, said, "So, what shall we have to break the fast?"  
  
She looked at him squarely. "Actually, I'm not really that hungry just yet. Do you mind if we talk for a bit first?"  
  
Surprised but not about to throw away the chance for conversation with his quiet wife he agreed. "What about?"  
  
She flushed abruptly, causing her face to turn from its pale ivory hue to a deep shade of a color somewhere between tomato red and violet. "Er, I know last night I was less than cordial with you. But, you see, I didn't really want to hear all of those things. You're my friend, sir, really you are, but I don't usually marry my friends. At least, not before knowing them for a very long time and knowing that our relationship could last. Ron," her breath hitched slightly but she continued. "Ron, he--he loved me. And I knew I loved him in return. We had an understanding. We worked well together as long as it was for something we both agreed on. And don't believe everything Harry has told you about our arguments from our school years. We were children, then, and prone to get heated about our views, especially Ron. He was...fiery. And passionate. And his love for me was much stronger than his anger. If he knew my opinion could not be changed, he wouldn't try to change it. He loved me." She wanted to say something more to explain the emotions they had shared, but, despite her large vocabulary, she could find no word that even came close to what it was like.  
  
"I want you to know that I did not want to marry anyone for a very long time, but if I must, then I am glad that it was you who came first." Her cheeks color brightened for a moment before she went on. "I don't think I could have stayed with Snape for very long. He always has frightened me. And I don't believe he's ever done anything except tolerate me. And after he insulted me about my teeth in fourth year, I don't think I could ever do more than respect him. For he has deserved it in all his...and, I'm babbling, aren't I?" She looked at her hands. "Ron always said that I babbled. And most of it he said he couldn't even understand. He always wanted me to slow down, and maybe even say something intelligible every once and a while, but I just keep going on and on, like right now. I am sorry."  
  
Remus smiled. "Don't worry about it Hermione. I've always liked a constant chatterer. You do remember Tonks, don't you? She could hardly ever shut her mouth at all. I used to tease her that if she didn't, one day in the middle of her rant a bird would land its droppings in there."  
  
Hermione looked at him closely, surprised that he was talking of his late wife. This brought up a question that had been nagging her for sometime. His earlier answers just didn't seem enough. "Why did you ask me to marry you, sir? I mean, it sounds like you still really love her. Tonks, I mean. And you didn't have to. I would have gone with Snape easily enough without even really considering another option."  
  
He hesitated for a moment before responding. "I do love her still, Hermione. I think I always will. She reminds me of Sirius. Sometimes I think that I married her for the wrong reasons. She was so much like him. I thought that I had perhaps married her so quickly because I didn't want to lose what little I had left of the Marauder sentimentality. She even asked me about it once. She thought that maybe I didn't really love her at all, and that I just wanted a replacement for my old school chum. And, at first, it was true. I didn't love her. I--it took me a long time to realize that I did love her. Too long. I had never told her that I did. Not until after she couldn't hear me anymore. Everyone just assumed that we had this unbreakable bond with our love, that we were the most affectionate couple to ever walk the planet. But I never told her and I--I regret that more than anything, Hermione." He drew in a slow and shaky breath. "I can still remember when the 'Condolence Letter' from the Ministry came along with a bit of money from her insurance. I couldn't open it then, and, well, to tell you the truth, it's still sitting on my desk, covered with dust and papers. I couldn't bring myself to take off the wrapping. It hurt too much to look at. Everything about it reminded me of her; even the messy bow on top of it reminded me of how she liked to have her hair. I--this doesn't answer your question, does it?"  
  
She sat stunned, staring at him, before quickly looking back down at her hands. The box. He had one too. And he hadn't bothered to open it. Should she tell him about hers? Should she reopen that wound for both him and her? Could he understand and forgive her for it? Could she forgive herself for bringing it up? Did it really matter so much, this box?  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
The voice snapped her back to reality. She whipped her head up from its position. "What?"  
  
He looked at her with concern, his hands uncertain about whether he should try to comfort her with them and risk facing another rejection or what. "Are you alright?"  
  
She steadied his hands gently with her own. She could always tell him about the letter and the box later. "Yes, I--I'm fine. I just--I don't think I want to eat right now." She stood up. "Do you suppose we could start packing up my flat? Harry says that I am to move in with you at Grimmauld Place and I figure the sooner that we get out of that little hole of a flat I can begin anew."  
  
He glanced at her skeptically before replying. "I suppose we could. I'll take you back then go get Harry and Hannah to help, all right?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, I can get there just fine. I'll see you when you get them." She smiled stiffly. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."  
  
With one last uncertain look, he disapparated to Grimmauld Place. She sighed and stepped out of the pub and into the street.  
  
She began to walk down the road, glad for the complete silence of early morning and the solitude that it provided as well. She sighed slowly as memories flooded her of Harry, Ron, and herself in happier times of old. Turning her face towards home, she found that anew face began to find its way into her thoughts and she realized that she wasn't too displeased to see it there. He was, after all, her husband.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ All right, another chapter done. Once again, it's not quite the best of anything, but look how quickly I got it out! Well, review and tell me what you think of it. And I WILL try to keep getting them out quickly, but I can't make any promises. Until next time! 


	6. Moving, Bickering, and Angry Leaving

Okay, um, I'd like to start this chapter with a little short author's note. In response to a review, I'm sorry that you think I made the magical world "unmagical", but I figured that if J.K. Rowlings could create a world full of fancy and imagination in the middle of a very practical world, then I should be able to create an equally mundane story in the middle of a world of magic. So, I am sorry that you don't like my story, but if you truly dislike it, don't read it. Oh, and thanks to all of you who do like it and continue to support and encourage me through your reviews. They mean a lot to me.  
  
Disclaimer: Come on, did you really think I would stop these? As much as I'd like to, I think it might be required, so yes, all to J.K. Rowlings.  
  
All right, enough of that, here's the next chapter.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 6: Moving, Bickering, and Angry Leaving ~`~`~`~`~  
  
Hermione returned to her flat soon, barely arriving before Remus and the Potters. She waited for them on her sofa, looking around at the plain walls of the sitting room thoughtfully, trying to store the memory of the warm creamy feeling it gave her when she walked into the room. She glanced at the large clean windows and the slightly dusty shelves and end tables that gave the atmosphere a definite "Weasley" feel. As much as she adored her late husband's family, she did resent the fact that wherever a Weasley seemed to take residence, the usual bit of untidiness tended to follow. All in all, the picture that ingrained itself into her memory was one of happiness and serenity.  
  
"All right, I suppose we could pack up the sitting room first and..." The voice came from the door and Hermione looked up to see her new husband and her new friends looking at her a bit apprehensively. She stood carefully and folded her arms across her chest. The silent staring battle continued for several moments before Hermione ended it with a light chuckle that was far from its former fullness, but was very close.  
  
"What are you all looking at? If I am to move any time soon then I suggest we get started!"  
  
And with that sleeves were rolled up, boxes were conjured, and spells were cast to put every piece of furniture, decoration, and knick knack safely into their packaging. In barely more than an hour, the entire room was piled into two dozen neatly stacked boxes and bags.  
  
Hermione looked at them all, her hands on her thin hips and a satisfied smile playing at her lips. "We made good time." She stuck her willowy wand in her back pocket. "I never would have thought that we could have fit all of this clutter together in so short a time. And in so few boxes. Ron and I had a bet that if we ever were to move that it would take at least--" She stopped abruptly as she realized what she was saying. "Anyway, let's get the kitchen. That bit of junk must take longer than this.  
  
The people were quiet then, no longer chatting idly and lightheartedly as they worked, but a sort of tense and heavy feeling hung about their hearts. Each wondered what they ought to say to break the uneasiness and though many ideas came up, none were brave enough to actually speak. That is, until Hermione dropped a dish when she happened to lose her concentration.  
  
The crash startled everyone and as Hermione knelt over cursing to see which it was she had broken and Hannah quickly said an incantation, causing all the glass shards to swarm together and reconnect in their former shape. She came down beside Hermione and offered her an arm to help her up, but stopped suddenly when she saw the tears of frustration in her eyes.  
  
"What's the matter, Hermione?"  
  
The nearly shaking woman turned to her companion with a fierce light in her eyes. "I shouldn't have dropped it. I should have been paying more attention. Don't you understand, Hannah? I shouldn't have dropped it. It's not a Hermione thing to do, to go about dropping things and crying at the fall of a hat." She laughed. "Look at me! Normally I'd scream or yell or quarrel or something, but now I cry." She looked into Hannah's eyes with an almost glare. "I DON'T cry. Do you get it? Hermione doesn't cry. Not anymore. I've had enough with that these past years."  
  
Hannah shook her head, as though trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Well, yes, Hermione, I know it isn't usual for you, but, considering the circumstances, I think that it's--"  
  
"No, you see, that's just the problem. There are no circumstances." She stood and began to pace back and forth through the kitchen restlessly. "I've had so many similar circumstances happen, nearly once a year there has been reason for me to truly lie down and have a good cry. Ever since I came here when I was eleven. But by now I should have overcome that feeling." She turned on Harry. "You have. I haven't seen you shed a tear in years. You're so above that sort of thing. Not since Sirius died have I seen you cry." Harry's mouth tightened into a thin line that was almost imperceptible to the eye. "If you can do it, why can't I?"  
  
Hannah stood beside her and wrapped one plump arm about her narrow waist. "Because you're a woman, Hermione."  
  
Hermione jerked away from her as though she might contract some contagious disease. She pounded her fist into her opposite hand harshly, causing everyone to flinch. "Damn that excuse!" she cried. "Everyone says it's all right for a woman to cry but the minute some man does, the situation becomes dire." She turned on them all. "Did you ever notice, when you saw a movie or a play or something, when the women cried, yes, it was sad and everything, but the minute it was the man who was crying, then things were truly traumatic. Every eye in the audience was filling up and you could hear some old lady in the back sobbing. Why is that? How come when I cry no one really cares, but if it were Harry, this would be the worst thing to happen since Voldemort returned almost five years ago?"  
  
Harry looked at her sharply and almost angrily. "We do care when you cry, Hermione. Where did you ever hear that shit about it being truly traumatic when the man cries? What are we living in, the 18th century? Hermione, you are far stronger than I am. There have been many times that I've cried and you haven't been there to see the tears. Ask Hannah!" His arm jerked out behind him towards his wife who looked so forlorn and uncertain standing in the middle of the kitchen like a meek mouse. "I wake up nearly every night screaming from things I remember. You act as though it's only women who can feel tears and sorrow and, goddammit Hermione; I feel it just as much as you do. It's your own bloody fault that you believe that. Just- -just stop being so self centered! We're all hurting just as much as you are. Get over yourself and try to do something worth while. We can't help you get happy again if you don't let us." He sighed. "You have to let us help you."  
  
Hermione had been feeling terrible and guilty about what he had been saying up until the bit about them all hurting as much as she. She knew for a fact that none of them were feeling this agony inside. It took every bit of self control she had to get herself up in the morning, and every last remaining bit she had left over to get herself to sleep at night. They might know some of the dull ache in her head and the hole in the heart, but they couldn't possibly feel that gaping emptiness that took place in her soul, somewhere in a place she couldn't locate but could feel all the same. She knew that he could not feel that, and perhaps never would until he lost his wife, God forbid, and was left to live for many years after their death.  
  
She stared at him incredulously for a moment before setting her jaw and walking up to him very slowly and deliberately. She stopped when her face was less than an inch from his and said menacingly. "You know nothing about how I hurt, Harry." Her voice was low and dangerous. "You know nothing."  
  
And with that she stormed from the room and out of the flat. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hall, but she ignored the ear wracking sound. She could hear them calling her to come back, but she didn't let the words register. Before they had a chance to catch up to her, she apparated to the place she figured that they'd least expect her to go. Grimmauld Place, the one place she truly did not want to be.  
  
As she popped in at the street, she quickly thought of the address in her mind and watched appreciatively as it appeared before her. She stormed up the walk and entered the heavy door without knocking. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to speak with someone who could maybe make her feel a bit better. And maybe make her heart a little lighter and her conscience a little clearer.  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
All right, it's a very short chapter, but it's a chapter nonetheless. I hope you liked it. And, yes, I know, it's moving along slowly, but as they say, Rome wasn't built in a day. I want to make this a very detailed fic, focused mainly on Hermione and her inner feelings and dilemmas. I know she may appear a little emotional and a little OOC, but she did, after all, just lose her husband, so bear with me please. Until next time! 


	7. Molly, Evie, and Remus

Many thanks to all of my reviewers! You guys are absitively posilutely amazing! And, well, here's a new chapter for all of you!  
  
Disclaimer: As I'm sure you all know, I own practically nothing. All to the fantabulous J.K. Rowlings!  
  
Now, read on!  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 7: Molly, Evie, and Remus ~`~`~`~`~  
  
Hermione passed through the dark and rather dank halls, not caring at all when she knocked things over or even when she woke up the horrible Mrs. Black, making the portrait scream vile curses and terrible threats. She passed by various members of the Order, not even noticing their looks of surprise or their pleasant greetings and kind sympathies. She made her way to the parlor in a frantic beeline, not letting anything keep her from her destination. Not even a locked door.  
  
With a quick and angry incantation, the large door was blasted off its hinges and fell with a hollow thud onto the thin floorboards. Only the shocked expression of Molly Weasley stopped her from further destruction.  
  
"Hermione?" The woman questioned a bit meekly, her exhaustion seeping into her voice.  
  
The young woman looked up to her mother in law, taking in the peaked face and the heavy bags under the eyes. She slumped her shoulders, finally ashamed for her actions. Slowly and sadly she stepped to one of her most favorite people and landed with a shaky sigh beside her on a rather threadbare and stained sofa.  
  
"Molly, I don't think I can do this anymore." Her voice trembled and she gripped the armrests of the chair to stop the frantic quivering of her fingers. "I don't think I can take it anymore."  
  
A soft warm hand gingerly rested on her heaving shoulder. "Can't take what anymore, dear?"  
  
"This." She waved her arm about unwittingly, trying to search for a word that could make sense. "All of this." She turned to face the old woman, hunting in her face for a similar bit of pain and hurt and hopelessness. Yet, though she spent nearly a minute looking, all she could find was a grudging resolve and a tired determination.  
  
"How can you handle it, Molly?" she asked in little more than a whisper. "I don't mean to do or say the things I do, but I can't stop them from coming out. I regret and I hurt and I cry." She laughed bitterly. "Can you believe it, Molly? I cry. And what's worse, I don't know why."  
  
Molly remained still, listening, but not offering any advice just yet. She listened and heard and wanted to cry along with her grieving daughter in law, but managed to stay as strong as possible for, if no one else, Hermione.  
  
"And--and I just want to be able to, I don't know, fall into the ground and let it swallow me up again, you know? Like maybe, if I prayed hard enough, I could just stop. Just let someone else take my place. I just want it to be over with. I don't ever want to feel like this again. Do you understand me, Molly? I want it all to be over."  
  
"I understand you, Hermione," she managed to get out, albeit shakily. "I know what it feels like to want to get into bed and never get out. I know what it feels like to want to just blow everyone off and find some deep dark hole to crawl in. You just can't give into those feelings."  
  
Hermione sighed, feeling the hot pricking of tears at the corners of her eyes. "But--but it's so hard. And with this whole Remus problem I don't know if--"  
  
"Wait. Remus problem?"  
  
She turned to the older woman with an even stronger feeling of melancholy. "Yes. The Remus problem. I'm married to him."  
  
The comforting arm about her shoulder slowly lifted. "Married to him?" The question was unbelieving, angry, and confused. "Married to him?" Now it was hard, demanding, accusing.  
  
"Yes. I had to. I haven't any choice. It's either that or sit and wait for Voldemort to come and pick me up while I sit out in the Muggle world like some little free token or something. I can't let that happen."  
  
Molly turned to her. "But why in heaven's name would you be in the Muggle world?"  
  
"Because of the law. You know the one about Muggleborns who are unmarried or haven't any children being sent back from whence they came," she waved her arms about sarcastically. "I happen to be one of those Muggleborns now, you know. So, it's been sort of arranged for me pretty much. Oh, but I did have my choice." The bitter laugh returned full force. "Oh, yes. Admirable choices, the lot of them. I would either be Mrs. Lupin, Mrs. Longbottom, or Mrs. Snape. I figured that Mrs. Lupin was the most favorable out of all of them. So, congratulate me, Molly. I'm a newlywed!" She broke down into tears; heavy, wracking, heart wrenching sobs.  
  
The comforting arm returned to her, stroking her back comfortingly, accompanied with a few random, 'you poor dear's now and then. But it didn't make her feel any better. And she felt even worse when she heard someone step into the room.  
  
"Auntie?"  
  
The voice was quiet and meek, sounding almost like the human voice of a mouse, yet it broke through the silence like a gunshot. Hermione's head shot up from her hands and her watery eyes focused on a small form near the door.  
  
It was a small child with dirty blond hair that fell about her face in wispy strands, giving her that deceiving angelic look all toddlers manage to pull off so well. She stood daintily on the toes of her brightly colored shoes, barely poking out the bottom of a robe that was a bit on the shabby side and much too large for someone her size. The bright gray eyes and thin pink lips that took up much of her little fairy-like face reminded Hermione vaguely of someone, but she couldn't for the life of her think of whom.  
  
Molly looked up from Hermione. "Oh, Evie, I didn't see you there," she said motherly. "What is it, dear?"  
  
Hermione looked at the child in horror. This was her daughter now; stepdaughter, to be precise, but daughter none the less. This was the little girl that she was expected to take care of, the little girl she was expected to be mother to. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that the features that had seemed so familiar, in fact belonged to her husband. She stared at the tiny figure of a person, too shocked to even speak.  
  
"Daddy's here. He tol' me to go an' get you."  
  
Molly shot an anxious glance at the still form of Hermione, but Hermione didn't even bat an eyelash at the mention of her husband. She turned back to Evie.  
  
"Good. Would you tell him to come here please?"  
  
The little girl smiled. "Ya-huh." She turned around to obey, when she stopped. "Auntie?" she asked as she turned back around. "Who's the lady there?"  
  
"This--uh, this is,--um, well, she's--" Molly struggled for the right words to explain to the child that this was to be her new Mummy.  
  
"I'm your new mother," Hermione said, her voice emotionless, and her eyes leaked another tear. "I married your daddy."  
  
Evie approached Hermione slowly, looking her over carefully. She stood right in front of her, their noses nearly touching, and continued to look appraisingly at her. Just when Hermione thought the child was going to strike her or say something altogether snippy or cruel, she smiled.  
  
"You look nice." She grabbed a handful of Hermione's tangled and fly away curls in one small and slightly dirty fist. "You have pretty hair."  
  
Hermione had to smile in return, though a little uncertainly.  
  
"That'll do, now, Evie," Molly said, a bit scolding, though very pleased that Evie had the decency to be kind and gently with the grieving woman. "Why don't you go and get your father now. I'm sure he really wants to find your new mummy. All right?"  
  
The child turned to Molly with one of those award-winning smiles all small children possess and scampered out of the room, only tripping over one thing as she went. Molly laughed lightly as she quickly picked herself up, not even crying.  
  
"She takes after her mother in that," she explained. "She's always running into things, but she's not so big yet as it's annoying. She's just cute when she trips; Tonks was a bit of a nuisance as she fell."  
  
Hermione laughed politely and looked down at her shoes. "Molly? Will he be angry with me?"  
  
"Will who be angry with you, dear?"  
  
"Remus."  
  
Molly rubbed her back reassuringly. "Oh, no, dear. He's very understanding of these things, you know. He'll probably just be relieved that you're here and not roaming the streets of London or who knows where unattended and alone."  
  
Just as she finished speaking, another figure ran into the room, though this time it was a lot bigger than Evie, despite their similarities. It was Remus.  
  
"Molly! I must speak with you! I've lost her! I don't know where to look. She could be anywhere. I haven't a--" He finally spotted Hermione and stopped, mid-tirade. He collapsed to his knees in front of her and gathered her into his arms in relief. She stiffened, but did not pull away.  
  
He looked up at her, grabbing her face with his hands. If Hermione didn't know better, she would have thought that he was about to kiss her, but instead he spoke. "Oh, Hermione, we were so worried. I sent Harry of to Hogsmeade and Hannah off to Dumbledore. I came here to speak with Molly and send the Order out to look for you. You gave us quite a scare, disappearing like that."  
  
"I'm all right, Pro--Remus. I'm fine."  
  
He laughed jovially, his eyes sparkling with something akin to that of Dumbledore's eyes. "Yes, I can see that. Why ever did you come here?"  
  
The faint smile that had begun to curve her lips disappeared. "I--I needed to speak to Molly. I had to--think of some things without you and Harry constantly hovering over me."  
  
The sparkle faded. "Ah, yes. I should've suggested it myself. Of course you would need a woman who has experienced simi--well, yes, it makes perfect sense."  
  
He looked about to speak again, but Hermione didn't really want to listen to him babble any longer. "I, uh, I met your daughter."  
  
That stopped him in his tracks all right. He looked at her carefully, as though he wasn't entirely sure what to expect from her. "A--and?" He gulped most unbecomingly and Hermione almost laughed, not spitefully but happily.  
  
"And she's a very sweet girl. And she seems to like me. At least, she likes my hair." And then she did laugh. A high, sweet laugh. The way she used to before her life had been overcome by sorrow. It made both Remus and Molly happy just to see that little bit of their old Hermione coming back to them, if only for a short while.  
  
"Well, that's always good." He stood up nervously and held out his hand to help her up. "I suppose we ought to find Harry and Hannah, then, eh? I'm sure they're absolutely worried sick about you. They'll want to know that you're all right. Come on." He started to lead her to the door, but she stayed where she was. He turned to her questioningly.  
  
"Um, Remus?" She began. "Would it be all right if I stayed here?" He looked at her in surprise. "You know, figure out where I'll be living and all of that." She smiled at him. "And I'd like to speak with your daughter a bit more, if that's all right with you."  
  
He practically beamed at that last bit, and let go of her hand gently. "Yes, yes, of course. You do just that. I'm sure that she'll love it." He turned to go, but stopped suddenly. "But, um, you might want to beware a bit. When you get her started, she'll talk your ear off. One of the things she has in common with her mother."  
  
Hermione grinned slowly. "Along with clumsiness."  
  
Remus returned the grin with an even bigger one. "Exactly." And with that, he left.  
  
She turned to Molly after watching the empty doorway for a moment. "I think I'll go find Evie. But first, could you show me where we are to all live."  
  
Molly took her by the arm lovingly. "Oh, I'm sure that Evie and you would have a much better time doing that without me. Let's go find her."  
  
And, as they left the room, Hermione felt, for the first time in the past few days, that she could truly be happy again. Granted, it would take time, but there was a little girl that would be only to willing to help her see that there was more to life than just mourning and grieving. There was loving, as well.  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
And there, for all of you guys, another chapter! Sorry that it took so long, but you all know how busy life can be. Anyways, thanks to everyone and I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! 


	8. Maddening Questions and Even More Madden...

Thank you guys, all of you, for sticking with me, despite my horrible tendencies to have long periods of time between updates and all of that. I hope that this chapter will make you happy, so go ahead and read it.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm quite sure that you all know it belongs to J.K. Rowlings and probably always will. And, besides, even if it does ever belong to someone else that someone else ain't never gonna be me.  
  
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 8: Maddening Questions and Even More Maddening Endings ~`~`~`~`~  
  
"An' this is where we eat dinner, though sometimes we go into the parlor if there's a meeting. An' here's where I sometimes help Auntie if she wants me too and we do lots of fun stuff. An' here is where me an' Daddy just sit and talk, though I do most of the talkin' 'cause he says it's nice when I talk. An' here's where we sleep and where I'm s'posed to go if I'm in trouble or if there's somebody here that I don't know. An' that's it, I think."  
  
And so Hermione found herself going through a whirlwind tour of the house she'd known since her fifth year; though she had to say that this tour was far more fun than her first one all those years ago. Children had a way of making even the most boring of tasks fun and interesting. And the tiny hand gripping hers so tightly wasn't bad, either.  
  
"So, Evie, where am I going to sleep?" She asked the question as lightly as she could, but she could still feel the slight fear of hearing that she was to have the same room as Remus. Even if they were married, she didn't want to have to share a room with him, of all people. She'd rather share with Mundungus Fletcher, if it came to that. Well, maybe not Dung, but just about anyone else. At least she didn't have the awkward situation of being married to anyone else.  
  
"I dunno. Where d'you wanna sleep?"  
  
The girl looked at her curiously, waiting for an answer. Hermione sighed. "It's not important. I'll talk to your daddy about it when he returns." She looked up to the tall hall clock, trying to guess how long it had been since he'd left and how long it would take him to return.  
  
She turned back to her new stepdaughter with a forced smile. "What say you and me head down to the kitchen and ask Auntie for a bit of ice cream?"  
  
The girl hopped up with a loud "Yippee!" and grabbed Hermione by the hand, pulling her down the stairs to the dark kitchen at the bottom of Black Manor. Despite the fact that her arm ached from the pull, she marveled at the strength the child had. Being the daughter of a werewolf apparently meant that they inherited a bit of that infamous strength that Hermione was quite familiar to.  
  
In the kitchen, as though Molly had known they were coming, two large bowls of ice cream lay in wait on the heavy table, all ready to be eaten. The elder woman smiled at them as they came in at full speed. Hermione took her place beside Evie and watched in fascination as the child began to eat the treat as though she had never tasted it before. Molly sat beside her and joined in the watching.  
  
After a few seconds, she said, "The girl's got an appetite on her, hasn't she?"  
  
Hermione smiled, feeling the muscles in her cheeks tighten. "Yes. Is this something else she gets from Tonks?"  
  
Molly laughed heartily. "Oh, heavens, no! Have you ever seen Tonks eat? Like a bird, that one. This she gets from Remus. I'm sure that if they were called to, they could eat an elephant and still be hungry for more."  
  
"Yes, but it certainly is entertaining to watch her eat. I've never really been so close to so small a child before."  
  
"No?" Hermione shook her head slowly. "Then you're missing out, my dear. They're the sweetest, and the most devilish, things to ever walk the planet. She may seem the angel now, but just wait. Pretty soon she'll be throwing one of her famous tantrums. Especially when she hears about the M- E-E-T-I-N-G tonight."  
  
Hermione turned to look questioningly at the woman beside her. "The meeting? Why will that bother her?"  
  
Just then, as though someone had found the 'STOP' button on her, Evie quit eating and turned in horror to her Auntie. "Meeting? There's a meeting?"  
  
Molly sighed. "Now you've done it," she muttered to Hermione. "Yes, dear, there's a meeting tonight."  
  
Evie took a drastic turn for the worst and began to cry. And not just a simple bit of whimpering, but sobs that echoed around the room and quickly turned into screams in which tears had no part in. Hermione covered her ears in shock, glancing quickly from Molly to Evie and back to Molly.  
  
"What's the matter?!" she cried over the din. "Why's she doing that?"  
  
"She doesn't like the meetings," Molly answered as she stood and picked up the crying child, holding Evie's face to her shoulder and muffling the sound somewhat. "It means that she has to stay in her room and she won't get to play with her father. It's the highlight of her day, going into that little room and playing some silly game or other with Remus. He's not around all that often, you know."  
  
"Oh. I hadn't known. I thought he spent a lot of time with her."  
  
Molly rubbed the girl's back soothingly, shushing her all the while. "It seems that way, doesn't it? From the way they dote on one another you'd think that they were hardly ever apart. But he's so busy with business for the Order all the time that he hardly gets to come here even to sleep. So when he gets to come, they spend all their time together."  
  
Evie squirmed in Molly's arms for a bit before she was finally set down. She looked about at the two women's faces through red eyes set in a wet red face before shooting out of the kitchen like a rocket. Hermione stared at the door in surprise for a second before turning to Molly.  
  
"She's quite prone to mood swings, isn't she? If I didn't know better, I'd say it was PMS."  
  
Molly looked at her in disbelief for a moment before bursting out laughing. "If only it were so simple. I could give her a potion and send her up to bed for an hour or two. But she's just a bit of a spitfire on her own. Just imagine what it will be like when she is PMSing." They both shuddered dramatically and laughed.  
  
After a moment of companionable silence, Hermione asked, "What is the meeting about anyway, Molly?"  
  
The plump lady waved her hand dismissingly. "Something to do with the Minister. Apparently they think he might be behind some of the recent Death Eater revivals. Fat lot of good it'll do them even if he is. He's guarded so well that even his own mother, were she alive, couldn't even get close enough to actually give him a hug. They have a better chance of seeing a snowstorm in August than getting the chance to do something about Malfoy."  
  
Just the name of the slimy man made the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end. All she could think of was that if it hadn't been for him she could be living a much less stress-filled life. And she wouldn't have to be married if she didn't want to be. Damn the man.  
  
"When does the meeting start?"  
  
Molly glanced at the small clock on the mantle to the kitchen fireplace and shot out of her seat after reading the time. "Would you look at that! See how late it is already! It's nearly five! They should be arriving in an hour's time and I still have to make supper enough for the lot of them! Oh my goodness! I must..." She trailed off as she bustled about the kitchen, starting the oven and readying the pots and pans. Hermione quietly snuck out before she could be stopped and suckered into helping.  
  
She stood outside the door and leaned against the wall. It felt so good to be with Molly again, and yet it was so much more painful. Molly had the best shoulder to cry on and the most soothing voice, but she reminded her far too much of Ron. Everything from the red hair to the almost smothering feeling one would get from the hugs. She took in a shuddering breath as she remembered when she and Ron had come over to Grimmauld Place right after getting married and how they had both flushed as red as tomatoes when they told everyone. How ecstatic all the Weasleys and Harry were, how shocked Remus and Tonks had been, how pleased they made Dumbledore, and how much they disgusted poor old Professor Snape. And with Molly so close all she could think about was that day.  
  
Standing straight, she turned and started for the main staircase to the upstairs parlor. Before she made it to the steps, a small hand reached out from what seemed like nowhere and grabbed her ankle. She squeaked in surprise and stared at the hand and its little grubby fingers.  
  
"Evie?" she asked as she leant down and looked under the staircase. "Is that you down there?"  
  
"Yah-huh," a small voice said. Hermione knelt down obligingly to speak to the girl and detach the child's hand from her leg.  
  
"What are you doing down there, Evie? Isn't it awfully dark?"  
  
The fingers let go from her before she'd even had a chance to try and pry them off. A small disheveled figure crawled out and stood before her, a frank and rather curious look set on her features. "It's dark, yeah, but I was thinkin'...How come you're my new mummy? Why did my daddy marry you, huh?"  
  
For a moment, Hermione was taken aback by the suddenness of the question. Then she was amazed by the swift change of mood that had taken Evie. "Why- why do you want to know?"  
  
The little girl's expression did not change, she was just as determined to be answered now as she had been before. "I just wanna know, is all."  
  
Hermione mumbled and fumbled for the right words to tell her, but she couldn't summon them. She continued to stammer before a thought struck her brain. She smiled slowly and told her the most maddening thing that a child could hear from a mother. "Ask your father." And, just as Hermione had predicted, the child's face turned grim almost immediately. Her eyes narrowed and her lips set in a thin, nearly invisible, line.  
  
"You're not very nice," was all she had to say before she took off in the opposite direction, probably searching for someone who might have a better answer to her inquiry.  
  
While Hermione was glad to be rid of Evie's prying question, the outburst about being "not very nice" struck her somewhere and she felt absolutely awful for using the mother's secret weapon for avoiding questions that could lead into sticky situations. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, however, for just then, the front door opened with a resounding slam and the every annoying portrait of Mrs. Black resumed her tirade of "filth" and "Mudbloods". Hermione turned about quickly and watched as the tall and rather lanky form of Professor Snape made his way languidly inside the building, not bothering to close the door behind him. She stared for a moment at him, her mouth open in surprise. Then she was distracted once more by the presence of numerous members of the Order making their way through the doors: Mundungus Fletcher, Percy and Fred Weasley, some young and pretty Auror called Catalyn, a shopkeeper by the name of Tzeitel, Professor McGonagall, a waiter she'd heard referred to as Hal Rosser, and many others she'd seen a few times, but did not know by name. As Snape passed her, she was delighted to see a bruise residing high on his cheekbone from where she had slapped him the previous night. He sneered at her smile and self-consciously touched the unseemly blemish. After they had all gone by, each stopping with their own words of sympathy and condolences to say, she followed them into the kitchen.  
  
A bustling Molly greeted them; though Hermione could tell from the lines around her taught mouth that she wasn't the least happy to see them there any earlier than she had anticipated. The rowdy younger members laughed and joked around, some sitting and some leaning against the monstrous fireplace, and the elder members, including Percy and Fred, sat grimly together, none of them smiling or even hardly speaking to one another. Hermione, on the other hand, stood uncertainly beside a wall, not quite sure whether she ought to join the happy younger set or the older melancholy one. She was, however, not called upon to make a decision, for Harry and Hannah walked in, flushed and red, with a smiling Remus coming in behind them. The crowd turned to them with a burst of approval and congratulations to the newlyweds.  
  
"And you'll never guess where I found them!" Remus called above the din. A resounding cry followed his words. "Down a side alley in Hogsmeade in a rather...compromising...position," he said rather delicately, a bright twinkle in his eye. But the group would not be satisfied with so polite an answer.  
  
"Aw, come on, Remus! You gotta give a bit more than that!" one strapping young fellow with shaggy blond hair and a broad chest cried from where he stood with his arm around an equally good-looking girl with long black curls and a practically perfect hourglass figure.  
  
"Yeah!" another cried, a lock of green-dyed hair falling in front of his almond-shaped eyes. "We want the dirt!"  
  
A cheer and a laugh rose from this announcement. Remus raised his hands high. "All right, all right! You've torn it from me." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I found our lovely young Hannah here nearly robbed of that pretty little blouse she's wearing. Why don't you show it to us, Hannah, dear. It really is pretty." A flushing Hannah hid behind her husband in embarrassment. The Order members laughed good-naturedly. "And Harry here, being the regular little 'love bug' that he is, was only too happy to be the one robbing her of it!" The group laughed once more, a few of them even clapping Harry on the back as he tried to make his way through them to his seat.  
  
Hermione, though, neither laughed nor cheered. She was too surprised by the change in her once rather stoic and calm professor. It shocked her to see him so at ease and so...so funny in front of all these people. She'd never seen this side of him and, she hated to admit it, even to herself, but she liked that side. It was more of a "Ron" side of him that she had never known had been there before. And even as these thoughts made their way through her brain, he turned to her, a bright smile on his face and his eyes brighter than she had ever remembered seeing them before. He sobered soon, though, at the look on her face. He came over to here quickly.  
  
"Are you all right, Hermione?" He took hold of her arm in concern. She looked at him almost without actually seeing him. It almost hurt her to think of the new him. He led her discreetly out into the hall. And, again, asked her if she was all right.  
  
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she answered. She had to think up something to say, and fast. "I--I just--I don't think I really want to stay at the meeting tonight. I'd rather just go to bed and catch up on some of the sleep I've been missing. And..." She couldn't think of anything else to say, but he seemed to understand. At least, he understood what she had told him.  
  
He started leading her towards the stairs, taking hold of her by her shoulders. "Right, that's a good idea. Why don't you just go up into Evie's room, I'm sure she's showed you where that is. I'll come up to see you after the meeting. You know, give you sort of a rehashing of all that they say." She started to climb the stairs, but his hand, still on her shoulder, stopped her. She turned around to face him.  
  
"Sleep well, Hermione," he whispered. She smiled faintly to him, searching his eyes for some trace of either the Ron she thought she had seen earlier, or a bit of the Remus that she had thought she knew. But she could see neither, just a bit of sweet concern and very endearing worry. And, without thinking, she leaned forward and lightly touched her lips to his, hardly a fraction of a second.  
  
He stared at her, eyes wide and eyebrows lifted high, causing his brow to wrinkle becomingly. Startled by her own forwardness, she gave him one crooked grin before shooting up the stairs.  
  
Remus turned about, a finger touching his lips as though he didn't quite believe that Hermione had actually done what she had done. Almost dawdling, he made his way back into the kitchen to fulfill his duty to the Order, but he wanted, more than anything at that moment, to just follow her up the stairs and see if she had meant something with that slight kiss.  
  
After he made his way through the kitchen doorway, a lightly stooped figure stepped out of the shadows, bright blue eyes twinkling merrily and a gnarled finger absently toying with a few strands of snow white beard. A broad smile appeared under a crooked nose as the man thought of what he had just seen, but soon disappeared as other more unpleasant thoughts reached him. And, despite his usual tendency to keep quiet about such matters, whispered quietly to himself. "Better that they find each other now, before the storm, than after, when it may have been too late." And with those words, he followed Remus' steps and disappeared through the kitchen doorway and was lost amidst the loud and happy group of people that made up the Order of the Phoenix.  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
All right, I know that it's been forever. I seem to be making up a lot of excuses, but I can only get to write every now and then. So, I'll try to get another chapter up soon, but don't be too angry if it takes longer. Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Finally, a little bit of fluffy stuff, just like you all wanted! Please review and tell me what you think. 


	9. A Meeting and A Cause

Again, I know it's been forever, but I had hit a bit of writer's block. I began to write up this chapter and realized that I had no idea where I wanted it to go. So, I had to take the time to write it all out, pretty much to see what exactly I wanted to happen and when I wanted it to happen. I know that's a bad excuse, but it is true. I took all that time so that now my updates should be more frequent. So, here is the next installment of An Act of Desperation. Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: It still all belongs to J.K. Rowlings, of course. What did you expect?  
  
Chapter 9: A Meeting and a Cause   
  
Hermione settled herself in the room she figured she was to share with Evie, sitting cross-legged on the rather squishy couch with her fingers absently toying with a bit of fringe on a long outdated throw pillow. She wondered how the Order could be so happy, even so soon after a rather devastating blow. Of course, she knew that it seemed a bit egotistical to presume that Ron was worth so much to the Order, but she also knew that he had been on friendly terms with all of the people in there, whether or not he knew them well. She had figured that they'd be a bit more on the grim side, as the professors and remaining Weasleys had been. And yet, it did her heart some good to see people who were willing to be happy, even in the face of such pain and sadness. The thoughts, all similar, flashed through her head quickly, not staying long enough to be analyzed nor having too much for her to truly worry about.  
  
But there was one thought that kept her most occupied. She had kissed Remus Lupin. Of course, he was her husband, so it was perfectly all right, but the point was that she had kissed him and her late husband wasn't even dead a week. Her fingers continued to fiddle with the frayed bits of avocado green yarn on the pillow beside her. And as she fretted, without really realizing it, snatches of yarn ripped and were shredded by her nervous fingers, a habit she'd picked up in school when she had nothing to do and a stray bit of parchment.  
  
She sighed and dutifully scooped up the small pile and emptied her hands into a nearby rubbish bin. The act triggered some strange fleeting memory and, before she knew it, she found herself tearing up and sniffling. She wanted to stop crying, but the tears were deaf to her wishes. Then, just as suddenly as the tears started, they were replaced by anger; anger at being so weak, anger at the stupid bits of yarn reminding her for some unknown reason of Ron, anger at everything that happened to meet her eyes. She felt a strange desire to totally destroy the pillow the yarn had come from and she couldn't rid herself of the odd want until she found her hands gripping the pillow and pulling it apart. Aghast, she flung the pillow from her and left the room quickly.  
  
Once out of the room that belonged to her new stepdaughter, she shut the door and leaned her forehead against it, willing her tears and anger to disappear. Taking deep gulping breaths, she finally began to feel her heart slow and the adrenaline to quit pumping through her body. She pushed back strands of loose curls from her face as she stood straight. And then it sort of hit her, what she had done.  
  
She blushed fiercely; glad no one could see her or what she had done. She'd sat upstairs for nearly a half of an hour, but she had had to fight herself just to stay put and not wander down into the kitchen to see what the meeting was about. Sure, she was often startled out of a day dream by the raucous laughter that erupted from below her, but she couldn't make out anything beyond that. Now, though, after her disastrous attempt to stay put, a bit of an adventure into the meeting seemed just the thing to do. It would be more comforting to be with others, not to mention the fact that if she should even start to think of something less than pleasant, all of the people there would be enough to successfully distract her until the thought had passed.  
  
Her mind finally made up, she quietly made her way to the top of the stairs, only to be scared out of her wits by a loud "Hiya!" coming from the vicinity of her feet. She gave a most girlish squeal and a backwards hop before she realized that it was only Evie. Trying to regain her dignity, Hermione placed her hands on her hips and stared down at the young girl, just short of glaring.  
  
"What do you think you're doing, young lady?" she asked sharply, in no mood to have to put up with any nonsense.  
  
The child looked up at her innocently, or, at least, as innocently as she could possibly look. "I'm just sittin'."  
  
"Sitting, are you?" Hermione asked skeptically. She was on the verge of telling Evie to go play in her room when she distinctly heard the voices of the people in the kitchen talking rather loudly. Then she understood. "Just sitting, eh? Looks to me as if you were eavesdropping on your daddy and his friends."  
  
Evie looked up at Hermione pleadingly, begging with her eyes not to be turned in for her minor indiscretion. And, in her rather soft manner, Hermione smiled gently and lifted the girl to her feet. "Off to your room now, Evie. You go on and play and I'll come up there in a little bit. All right?"  
  
The child nodded eagerly, glad to not be in any trouble, and practically ran to her room. Hermione smiled at the child slowly. So much like her mother. After a minute of absent thought, she stood and carefully made her way down the stairs and into the boisterous kitchen.  
  
Though she'd only been gone a rather long while, perhaps forty minutes, everyone looked as if they had all just arrived. They were still laughing over silly jokes and hadn't even begun to get down to business. Hermione looked around at them all, taking in the smiles and the laughter. It was almost foreign to her ears in some strange way. She searched through the crowd and made out the plump figure of Hannah beside the wirier frame of her husband. She saw the drooped figure of Percy Weasley, and the even more stooped figure of his brother Fred. Then, after what seemed forever, she saw Remus. He was chatting with the green haired wizard and the sickeningly perfect couple that had been very enthusiastic with his story of Hannah and Harry earlier in the evening. Though she stood in the doorway, half in the shadow, he somehow knew she was there and looked up. Their eyes locked from across the room. He quickly excused himself from the conversation and hurried over to her.  
  
"Are you all right? Has something happened?" He asked her fretfully. She almost smiled at his concern.  
  
"No, nothing's happened. I just couldn't stand to be in that room anymore." She tried a shaky, almost apologetic, grin. "Too much time for thought."  
  
He gave her an understanding glance and led her to a bit of bench between Dumbledore and, to her disgust, Professor Snape. He gave her a trademark sneer and opened his mouth for some scathing remark, but she silenced him with a pointed look at the bruised flesh on his face. His eyes grew furious, but he shut his mouth. Hermione smiled sweetly in return.  
  
Just then, she heard the sound of clapping and her head snapped up to see Remus clapping his hands together loudly, trying to get the attention of the Order so that their meeting might finally begin. After a few minutes as everyone settled themselves as comfortably as possible, the meeting began. Remus gestured to Dumbledore as he sat and the Headmaster stood. Not one sound escaped anyone as the most respected personage in all of England began to speak.  
  
"As I am sure all of you know the Death Eater attacks have increased. More and more wizarding AND Muggle homes have been found with the Dark Mark hovering over them. Despite the fact that Voldemort is, to our knowledge, destroyed, his evil remains in the form of a new leader, a man who, if he is not in fact Voldemort himself, looks amazingly the same. Now, many of us have formed our own opinions on the identity of this new Dark wizard, but most suspect that he is none other than our own Lucius Malfoy. In light of his new 'Muggleborn Law,' it has become even more apparent that his prejudices of old are just as strong today as they were before. And our theories seem to finally have ground. I should like to invite anyone with thoughts on this matter to speak now. Perhaps a 'brainstorm' will help us formulate some new ideas that are closer to the actual truth."  
  
The room, quieter than it had ever been, stayed silent for nearly a minute before a mysteriously dusky woman stood to face the Headmaster with cool and deep eyes. "If it is indeed Lucius Malfoy that we must be wary of," she began in a surprisingly deep and husky voice, "then perhaps we should do a bit of sleuthing in the Ministry. As you all know, I serve as one of the Minister's lower assistants, but I'm sure I could do a bit of investigating. As could many of you with Ministry jobs. I may be new to the Order, but I, too, suspect the Minister of some less than pure activities."  
  
An outcry of both agreement and disagreement broke through the eerie silence of the kitchen. Many of the younger members whole heartedly agreed with the woman's thought, while the elder members thought it too risky a chance. If she were found out, the whole Order could be in danger. Hermione, on the other hand, only stared at the woman. This new member gave her, well, to be completely honest, the heebie-jeebies. It wasn't so much her dark beauty or her unnaturally deep voice as it was her eyes. They were too cool, as they she had no emotion at all. Snape could seem somewhat cool, Malfoys could seem very cool, but the only eyes she had ever seen so cool as hers were Voldemort's that one time she'd seen him during that Last Battle. Hermione didn't trust this woman.  
  
During her study of the young Ministry worker, she missed a good part of the conversation. In fact, she missed just about all of it. When she began once again to listen, she heard them forming a plan. A plan to send about five or ten of the Ministry working members of the Order on a bit of a scouting mission to watch the Minister and to keep a close, and I mean VERY close, eye on him. They were planning on sending a sort of spy in to speak with him even! That was too much for Hermione. This plan was too much like the scheme that had taken her husband from her. They'd gone in expecting to ambush, to scout them out before attacking and it had gotten one of them killed. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she felt a sense of dread that the outcome of this mission would be no different from its predecessor.  
  
"No!" she cried, standing straight. All eyes turned to her, wide and disbelieving that the usually quiet and reserved Hermione would be so loud and so against their plan. "You will NOT do this! Please, you will not." Her hands were shaking as the gripped her robes to her side. Both Remus and Harry hurried to her, trying to set her down again, trying to make her be quiet, even if only for a little bit. But they should have remembered that when Hermione Granger had something in her mind, nothing could stop her from saying it. She shook off the two men and stood her ground, though a bit more shakily and wobbly than before.  
  
"Don't you realize what this plan sounds like? Don't you realize what could happen? Don't you realize that people could be lost? I lost my husband to a plan such as this, a plan that shouldn't have gone wrong, a plan that should have only taken an hour to complete. I lost the man I LOVED to a stupid idea that sounds remarkably similar to this one. Will you not take into consideration that people could die? I don't know why I feel this way, it's never struck me like this before, but I feel, no, I KNOW, that someone, if not all of you, will die in this folly. I--I can't allow this to happen. Not while I have breath left in my body."  
  
The room was once again overcome with silence. Every eye was on Hermione and every mouth was open slightly in shock. All except for the Ministry woman. She was looking at Hermione with something akin to respect or maybe something closer to pride. It only furthered Hermione's distrust for her.  
  
A few seconds passed while everyone processed this information, and then the room practically erupted. Everyone began talking at once. Some tried to comfort Hermione, others tried to tell her that victory always had sacrifice, others tried to think of a different plan, others continued to work on the plan they had already begun. The sound and what she was feeling was a bit overwhelming. She sat down shakily, bumping into Remus, Snape, Harry and Dumbledore on her way down.  
  
From there on, the meeting went downhill. No one could speak of anything but what Hermione had said and everything had sort of reached an impasse. Nothing new was brought up and, eventually, Dumbledore simply told everyone that it had been a rather stressful night and that everyone just ought to go home. And they did, in very good time.  
  
Within ten minutes, all save Harry, Hannah, Molly, Remus, and Hermione were gone, much to Hermione's relief. They all sat companionably around the table, trying to pretend that Hermione's little outbreak had never happened, but it wasn't entirely working. Hermione still shook, Hannah looked near to tears, and both Harry and Molly looked desperately pale. Overall, no one except Remus really seemed in any condition to speak.  
  
He turned to Hermione and put an arm comfortingly around her shoulders, but it didn't look as if she noticed. "Hermione," he said, "you have to try to live your life the way it should be lived. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" He didn't wait for a response. "You have to keep being Hermione and not someone overcome with grief." She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued as though he hadn't noticed. "You have to understand that life still goes on and that you're a part of it. And that the people that make up your life have a mission in front of them. A mission to better the lives of all Wizardkind, and that sometimes sacrifices must be made to achieve this goal. It's all part of the risk we take, becoming a member of the Order. We all must understand that we could lose anyone at any given time and that sometimes risks must be taken to further ourselves. And if that risk sometimes ends up costing a life, at least they died doing what was right. Just like Ron did."  
  
Though he had put his thoughts rather eloquently, they didn't have the effect he thought they might. Instead of Hermione smiling at him shakily and telling him that she understood, she was in a rage. She leapt from her chair and stared him down, fury clearly visible in her eyes.  
  
"You expect me to just take that as a good reason for Ron's death? Do you really think that this--this stupid Order justifies his not being here to live with me, with all of us? I--I can't believe you! I thought you, of all people, could understand. I thought that since you lost your wife early in your marriage that you could somehow sympathize with me, understand how I felt! But you're just like the rest of them! I--" She stopped and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Remus, being the ever faithful man he is, followed her. She knew it and stopped in front of the door to Evie's room.  
  
Her breath came in gulping gasps as she turned to face him. She took in the shock on his face as he noticed the tears on hers. "You're just like the rest of those people down there today. They think it some great adventure, some great honor, to die for a cause that will never be fully realized. I thought that maybe you would be different. I thought that you had a mind of your own, one that was separate from the masses. But you're no different. You're just like the rest of them. And there's nothing you can say that will make me feel any better." She turned from him again and reached for the doorknob, but his hand stopped her. He spun her around to face him again.  
  
"I may not be any different, Hermione, but I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love. Nearly everyone down there tonight knows what it feels like. But they're willing to go on trying to make things better. It doesn't matter if the cause is never fully realized. The point is that things change for the better. The point of being part of the Order is that you WANT to make things better. And if I have to die to make things better for my little daughter," he pointed to the door as his voice rose to nearly a shout, "then I will. I will do whatever it takes to make this world worth living in for her. Ron understood that. He understood that he may have to die to make it better for you and children that you may have had. You, on the other hand, still haven't figured that out yet." He let her go harshly, staring into her eyes fiercely.  
  
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Hermione, faster than he thought she could do, turned, opened the door, stepped in, and promptly slammed the door in his face.  
  
Well, there it is. I hope that it has satisfied all of you, my faithful readers and reviewers. Please review some more to tell me what you think. I always appreciate it.  
  
Oh, and by the way, I saw Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban on Monday, finally, and I thought that it was fantastic. Far better than the first two movies by far. I can't wait for the next one! 


	10. Packages and Snape Being Snape

Here's another chapter for all of you!  
  
Disclaimer: Everything still belongs to the admirable and amazing J.K. Rowlings. If I owned Harry Potter, do you really think I would be writing this?  
  
Chapter 10: Packages and Snape Being Snape   
  
Hermione slammed the door and then leaned against it, fighting back tears. Opening her eyes, she began to pick up everything that was within reach and throwing it about the room. The air was a blur with all of the pillows, books, and knick-knacks flying through it. The shatters and thuds did little to stop her rage; in fact, it only fired it up more. She began to pick up chairs and other things, no longer worrying about the tears on her face or the fact that she could no longer breathe well. She reached out towards the desk in the room when she saw something that made her stop cold.  
  
A sleeping child lay in the bed in the corner of the room. Hermione stopped, stared, and then felt a huge bout of shame and guilt settle in her chest. Evie had been in the room the entire time she'd thrown her little fit. That, more than Remus' dressing down, made her feel horrible. She could have struck the child, or worse, managed to throw the bed over and maybe injuring the girl seriously.  
  
She fell to the ground roughly, hurting her backside and tailbone, but not caring. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting this way? Why was she so un-Hermione-like? Why was everything so--so complicated? She put her head in her hands desperately, clinging to her face like she would to a life preserver if she were drowning. She felt so helpless, so completely not herself that it hurt, it physically hurt. She began to cry, letting the tears fall into her hands and down her arms.  
  
The tears continued for what seemed like forever. She wanted to stop, but she simply couldn't. Her eyes burned and her face was hot. Her hands were stiff from the salty tears having dried on them. By the time no more water could possibly leak from her eyes, she felt exhausted and worn out. Never before had she been so tired. She stood on wobbly limbs, ready to fall into bed and sleep until tomorrow afternoon. But something stopped her.  
  
Hermione had fallen so near the desk that it was the first thing she saw as she stood. But that wasn't what was important. On that desk sat her condolence package from the Ministry in all its brown paper and frayed string glory. She simply stared at it, knowing what it was but not wanting to think about it at the moment. Once on her feet, she didn't move. Half of her wanted to go straight to bed while the other half wanted to inspect the box, make sure that it was what she thought it was.  
  
In the end, she made a compromise. She walked to the desk and picked up the heavy box, holding it in her arms. To do that was surprisingly...comforting. She headed over to the bed beside Evie's and carefully pulled back the covers to lie down. As she tucked herself in as best she could, she held the box close to her chest, feeling the closest to happy she had felt since Ron had died. Sleep came easy that night.  
  
She awoke the next morning to the sound of laughter. It was faint and quiet, but there just the same. From what she could tell, it sounded as though it was in the kitchen. She sat up and stretched luxuriously in her warm bed, poking her sides on the corners of her condolence package. She looked down at it in a mixture of surprise and dismay. Quickly, she stood and put the box back on the desk. She stepped back and looked at it a bit, then decided that she really didn't want to see it all that often and shoved it into the large right-hand drawer of the desk, conveniently out of sight. Satisfied that she could no longer see it, she began to dress for the day.  
  
A few minutes later she stepped from the room in her everyday blouse, slacks, and robes, she headed downstairs for a bit of breakfast and maybe a cup of tea. Even as she began down the stairs, however, she desperately hoped that Remus would be off somewhere this morning. She had no desire to see him now after their row. In fact, it might only make her cry again. And it was amazing how she hated to cry.  
  
She entered the room slowly, standing in the shadows for a moment to survey the people in the kitchen before actually entering, but her movement caught the attention of everyone in the room. And there was a pretty good number. Hannah and Harry sat side by side, both sharing a plate of eggs and sipping on separate cups of tea. Evie was having a fine time with a bowl of porridge, which she somehow had managed to get all over her bit of table and her face. Molly was near the stove, keeping an eye on both the immobile Hermione and a pan of frying bacon. Even Snape was there, brooding over a cup of coffee and pretending to read the Daily Prophet, though Hermione knew that he was in fact watching her. And then, there's Remus. He looks as though he can't decide whether he wants to stand up and go to her or if he ought to just stay where he's at. Hermione enters before he must make up his mind and takes a place as far from him as possible, in between Hannah and Snape. Molly stands up quickly and reaches for a plate from the cupboard.  
  
"Good morning, dear," she begins. "Would you care for some eggs and bacon? Or some toast? Maybe a bit of porridge, or a spot of tea?" She scurried about, eager to please Hermione and avoid a scene at all costs.  
  
Hermione gave her a small grin. "Some tea and a bit of eggs, please," she whispered. "I'm not very hungry."  
  
Molly smiled and eagerly got it for her. Everyone ate in tense silence. That is, everyone except for Evie. She hummed to herself as she made a mess with her breakfast and tried to make the conversation, if there had been any, light.  
  
"Daddy?" she asked. "How come that guy's eating with us this morning?" She pointed at Snape enthusiastically.  
  
Remus followed the trail of her finger and smiled crookedly at Snape. "Because he hasn't got an Auntie at his home to cook for him."  
  
She nodded, as though this made perfect sense. "Daddy?" she began again. "How come his hair's so shiny, huh?"  
  
This time Remus had to fight to hold in his amusement. The entire room erupted into raucous laughter, that is, the entire room save for Snape. He merely scowled and downed the rest of his coffee in one long gulp. He neatly folded his paper and stood up. He set his cup in the kitchen sink. As his back was turned, he spoke. "Lovely little brat, isn't she?"  
  
Remus stood threateningly, but Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. Still, he glared at the straight back of his comrade. "Yes, actually, but she doesn't even begin to match you for charm." Snape spun around, his eyes afire.  
  
"So, Remus, how has wedded bliss been treating you so far? Enjoyed any after-hours romps and stolen kisses beneath the stairs? Or is your young bride a bit of a prude?"  
  
Now no one stopped Remus as he stood in indignation. In fact, he was joined by Harry, Hannah and Molly. Evie didn't understand a bit of it and just continued playing in her now cold breakfast while Hermione looked resolutely into her steaming tea.  
  
"Now, you listen here, Snape, that was too far!" Harry cried, though his argument was fairly ineffective. He did, after all, only reach to Snape's shoulders.  
  
Hannah placed her hands on her hips and glared up at her sour professor. "You're horrible, sir. She's been through a lot lately. You have no right to make fun of her. I--I would love to say something far worse at the moment, but there are children present!"  
  
Remus, on the other hand, rammed Snape into the counter and grabbed him by the front of his robes, lifting him a few centimeters from the floor with his impressive strength. "You take that back, Snivellus. Do you hear me? If you insult Hermione again, you'll have more than just a bit of roughing up to deal with. Or," he added with a sinister grin, "a little bruise on your cheek." He set Snape down and backed away, murder bright in his eyes.  
  
Then, to everyone's astonishment, Hermione began to laugh. She began tearing up and she started to gasp for air as the giggles kept on coming. The other occupants of the kitchen stared at her, surprised at her outburst, but she paid them no mind. As the laughs became fewer, she spoke.  
  
"He's right, you know, sir. You'll have a bit more than one bruise. You might have two!" She burst into giggles once again, and was joined in by the rest of her friends.  
  
Snape glared for a moment and then stormed out of the house, not in the least bit ashamed for slamming the front door behind him. After her laughter died down a second time, she turned to Remus and wiped her eyes. "That was just what I needed!"  
  
Wow! Two chapters in two days! That little trick of writing everything out before I type it up works wonders! I hope you are appeased now, readers! Updates really should be coming closer together now! Please review! 


	11. Job Offers and an Attack

Yes, yes, it's been a long time. Bad me. I don't mean to, but I get less and less time to write as time goes by. I do, however, intend to finish this story, so...don't get too mad. All right this chapter pretty much marks the beginning of the end. And, that doesn't mean it'll end soon, but it's maybe half way through. So, yeah. Go read it, then!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would really be expecting some money or publicity or something, but, seeing as how I don't own it, you don't have to do anything.

Chapter 11: Job Offers and Attacks

The next few weeks passed fairly uneventfully. Summer was now in full swing and the heat was to the point as to be a bit unbearable. The skies seemed to be perpetually clear, a rare occurrence, and the breezes were few and far between. Life passed quietly during these lovely days for the occupants of Grimmauld Place. There was the occasional crying from Hermione, the occasional meeting of the Order, and the occasional visit from the Weasley sons, but, all in all, everything was desperately dull. Of course, things rarely stay that way in the lives of Hermione Granger-Weasley, now Lupin, or Harry Potter. The rather quiet morning of August 6 was soon to become a very important day indeed.

Hermione sat in the kitchen, looking over the front page of the Daily prophet as her husband read the inside across the table from her. She sipped her tea and picked at the eggs Molly had dutifully made for her though she had no intention of eating them. Evie sat beside her and made her expected porridge mess, which never ceased to amuse her or annoy Molly, and chattered to herself. Molly flitted about the kitchen; continuously making food, despite the fact that she knew neither Hermione nor Remus would eat it. It was all a daily occurrence and not the least out of the ordinary, but the quiet routine was quickly spoiled.

They heard the loud slam of the front door shutting, followed immediately by Mrs. Black's screams and a cascade of footfalls belonging to at least two people. All of the adults looked up, startled at the outburst and not quite sure what to expect. The rather harried figures of Harry Potter and Hannah Potter emerged from the dim doorway and sat down noisily beside Remus. The kitchen was silent for a moment as it tried to acclimate itself to the loud new occupants. No one spoke, save for Evie who was not in the least perturbed at the intrusion. She continued to natter on about some silly child thing that seemed to be half in English and half in some language she had, no doubt, created herself.

After the initial shock, Remus set down his paper and turned to the wiry, heavily breathing fellow seated beside him. "What's all this, then, Harry?" The boy smiled breathlessly and took Hannah's hand in his.

"We've got something to tell you."

Hermione stared at them starkly and solemnly over the rim of the steaming teacup she still held in her hands. After another silent moment she set it down. "If you tell me that Hannah's pregnant I shall smack you," she said shortly.

Molly and Remus gaped at them when both Harry and Hannah flushed a deep red. "No, no, she's not pregnant," Harry responded gruffly. "Not at the moment, anyway," he added, much to Hannah's shock. "Though I am quite curious as to why you should smack me for it."

"Because you're far too immature to be a parent," she answered frankly. "And you haven't the faintest idea how to take care of a child, seeing as you're still one yourself. A rather big one, but a child nonetheless." She took her teacup back into her hands and slurped rather unceremoniously.

Harry had the decency to blush once again as both Molly and Remus smiled at him, amusement evident in their eyes. He cleared his throat gruffly. "You know, this isn't how I imagined this conversation going, Hermione. But, no matter," he went on with a smile, "my news is far too good to be put off by your sarcasm or whatever it is you want to call it." He glanced at Hannah before continuing. "I'm getting a job."

The response was what one would expect. Everyone stood up with a cry of delight and there was a good deal of clapping and back slapping before everything settled down for the conversation to continue.

"Where will you be working, Harry?" Molly asked him excitedly. "Is it a very good job? With the Ministry, perhaps?"

Harry made a loud scoffing noise. "Working with that lot of duffers? Not on your life. Who'd want to be working for a Malfoy anyway? I've got myself a teaching job."

Again, the response was cliché. So, we'll proceed without going into repetitive detail.

"But don't you need a good deal of schooling to be a teacher, Harry?" Hermione questioned, continuing on before giving him a chance to answer. "I know you do. And I also know that you haven't had nearly enough. At least, not for any teaching job I can think of."

Harry's face flushed to a delicate pink. "Well, Dumbledore doesn't seem to mind. I guess that he thinks that I'll do an all right job..."

"And, well, he's Harry Potter!" Hannah butted in, not realizing that everyone always knew that. "He defeated You-Know-Who, so who knows more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than him?"

The question was, obviously, rhetorical, but Hermione was never one to pass up a question she could answer. "I suppose there's Dumbledore...and perhaps McGonagall, or maybe even Remus, here. You have to admit, he was the best professor for the class that we ever did have." Harry rolled his eyes in amusement, but didn't respond.

Remus, however, had the decency to feel completely embarrassed and even reached out a hand to cover his wife's over-active mouth from continuing. With a wry look at the two Potters on the other side of the room, he said, "Continue, Harry, I'm sure there's more for you to say without Ms. Know-it-All intruding." Hermione glared at him half-heartedly as she tried not to burst out laughing and slobber all over her husband's hand.

"Well, there is something else..." Harry admitted, "But I'm not sure if I can tell it to Hermione properly if you hold her head in that unseemly matter." His eyes twinkled in a way that was oddly similar to that of the Headmaster.

Reluctantly, Remus let go of his wife and she quickly wiped her face while still glaring at him, but all he did was smile cheekily. "Yes, Harry?" Hermione asked between face swipes, "what is it?"

"Well..."he began, "I want you to come and help me look over the stuff. Everyone knows that you are the smartest witch of the age and, well, to be completely frank, you'll be the best employment advisor that anybody could ask for."

Hermione turned a red to shame her former husband's blush and smiled brightly. "All right, I'm going. Nothing could stop me, not when you give me such a nice compliment!"

She went across the room and grabbed her friend's arm and looked over at her husband. "Are you coming, too, Remus?" Needless to say, he was and they were off, leaving the ever active Evie in the capable hands of one Mrs. Molly Weasley.

The trip to the castle was uneventful, seeing as how they only had to apparate from outside Grimmauld Place, and soon there were standing before the main gates of the most impressive wizarding school that any of them had ever seen. Without further ceremony than a happy glance at the castle that had been their home during their childhood years, they entered the familiar halls of Hogwarts.

Once inside, they are all greeted by the aged yet strangely youthful form of Albus Dumbledore. He shook each of their hands in turn, lingering longer on the hands of Remus and Hermione. With a sweep of his arms he led them to the Great Hall, where the teachers, all who had stayed over the summer holidays, were gathered for breakfast. They stood at the entrance of the Headmaster and his guests, but sat once again as Dumbledore pulled out places for the four guests at the Head Table. After he had finally seated himself, he addressed them.

"I'm sure you have come about the job I've offered you, eh, Harry? And I see you've brought along your lovely wife, too. Splendid! I'll send you off in just a moment with Professor McGonagall, but first I'd like to put a question to our lovely Ms. Granger--oops! I apologize. Mrs. Lupin!" Both Hermione and Remus turned a most spectacular shade of scarlet before he continued.

"You see, Professor Vector, our esteemed Arithmancy professor," he gestured to stooped old figure of a man with a tuft of white hair shooting out from beneath his worn hat, "plans to retire. And it's about time, my friend! He's been teaching here since I was a lad! Taught a rather difficult class, didn't you, old boy! But, I digress. The point is, our faculty will be lacking in a member and I was left with the task of appointing a new professor. I thought that perhaps you could help me with this predicament, my dear Mrs. Lupin."

Ecstatic that Dumbledore put enough faith in her abilities to be of service in his search for Vector's replacement, she practically glowed. "Of course, Headmaster! Nothing would please me more! Just hand me over the résumés from your applicants and I'll look them over. I'll make a chart of their various plans, jobs, and references for you and you can look them over, try to choose the best of the best, you see. Perhaps I'll make up a few graphs or something and you--" Dumbledore stopped her with one long fingered hand.

"I'm afraid you misunderstand me, my dear. I don't mean for you to go through the applications, I mean for you to take the position!"

The table grew deathly quiet. All eyes turned to the young woman who was quite pale and looked about to faint. "Sir...do you really mean that? Do you mean...that I'm to be a--a Professor? Here? A Professor at Hogwarts?"

The kind man laughed loudly. "Of course that is what I mean, my dear girl! Will you accept?"

She sat stock still, her mouth hanging open. "I--I don't know. I mean, I've got a perfectly good job already. Though I haven't gone to it in some time...but, oh, I don't I possibly..? Oh, dear..."

"Er, Hermione? You work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office alongside Perkins, the poor old coot, and you're actually not certain about switching over to your dream job?!" Harry called out incredulously, to the amusement of some of the nearer educators.

Hermione fumbled with both her hands and her voice as she tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't sound ridiculous. "Well, it's just that--I've worked there ever since I graduated. I took over for Fred who had taken it over for a bit after Arthur di--well...it's sort of, well, a traditional post, I guess. For as long as I can remember there's been a Weasley in that little office beside Perkins and I don't--I mean, it's a wonderful offer...and I..." she turned to Dumbledore, "may I get back to you on this?"

Dumbledore, smiling and twinkling as always, agreed. Hermione was on the verge of responding with a sincere "thank you" when the Headmaster once again spoke up. "Minerva, would you be so kind and take the Potters to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom?" The woman complied quickly and gestured for the young couple to follow her.

Remus and Hermione stood to follow them, but they were stopped by Dumbledore. "Actually, my dear Remus and Hermione, I should much prefer a talk. I'm sure you'll be able to see the room later. There is much we need to discuss. Partly about your how you're becoming accustomed to your new marital life." From beside Dumbledore, Hermione noticed Snape's cruel smirk beneath a long since faded bruise. She glared in return, but complied with the Headmaster and followed him, along with Remus, to his office.

Once they had been comfortably seated in front of the desk, Dumbledore folded his hands imperiously and looked at them with bright lights in their eyes. "How are things between the two of you?"

A quick glance passed between the two. Remus leaned forward. "I'm not sure I understand you, sir."

The old man's smile broadened. "I shall clarify, then. How does married life treat you? How has it been for the both of you?"

An uncomfortable and tense silence followed. "Fine, sir," Hermione whispered, eyes downcast.

"Right. Couldn't be better," Remus put in desperately.

"I take it, then, that everything has...taken place."

Again, the room grew silent. "I don't--what do you mean, Headmaster?" Hermione asked in sotto voice.

A light chuckle escaped the man. "You know precisely what I mean, my dear Mrs. Lupin. But, should you wish it, I'm sure I could explain in further detail. First, you see--"

They both hurried to stop a most uncomfortable conversation with two very loud, very sincere "NO!"s. Needless to say, Dumbledore wasn't surprised, even if he was a bit disappointed. One always wants some of their favorites to be happy. And there had been such a promising start, that slight kiss on the stairs and tender glances from across the room, obvious care for each other, and there was no forgetting the time Remus had practically come to fisticuffs with one enraged Severus Snape, a scene of which had been brought to his attention almost immediately. It had, to say the least, made Dumbledore hopeful for more.

"I apologize for bringing up such a touchy subject, but it is in my interest to be informed. However, I shall pry no more into such a matter. I wonder, though...Hermione, I must ask this despite the pain it may cause, or the embarrassment. Did you and Ron plan to have a family?"

Hermione was completely caught off guard. "I--sir? A family? Well, to be completely honest, yes, but-"

Dumbledore cut her off. "This is very important, Hermione. Are you expecting?"

Again, she was shocked. Remus stared at her in something akin to horror. "What?! Of all things to ask me, you ask me that? Why, I--I--I don't what to say to that!"

"A simple yes or no will suffice."

"No!"

Dumbledore sighed but smiled. "All right, then. I'm sorry if that was less than pleasant, but it was necessary. I just thought that if you were, there's a good chance you hadn't told Remus yet and it's better to get it all out at once than waiting until the last minute and telling him you needed to get to the maternity ward at St. Mungo's. And, well, I thought that f you were, it might have been a nice remembrance of Ron. For you, but, well, just an old man's silly dream, I suppose."

By this time, Hermione had gained quite a bit of control over her tears; especially over the everyday sympathies she received by the dozens. This new thought, however, of a possible child she could have had brought out a whole new ache in her, a whole new loss she hadn't quite realized she'd had. Now it was all the more apparent and heart wrenching. Still, she remained composed.

"I am not going to be having a baby any time soon, Headmaster," she answered stiffly.

"I apologize for my lack of tact, but I thought it a necessary question. I sincerely hope that you can forgive me in time." He smiled brightly and stood, coming over to stand before the two much in the way one could expect of some very pleased grandparent. "Besides, I am sure that there is plenty of time for children." Without giving them a chance to respond, he gestured for them to stand and ushered them out the door.

"I do hope that you will seriously consider the offer of the teaching position. It would give the students quite a thrill, knowing that two of the most famous people in England would be teaching their classes."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond when a small figure came up to them, running as fast as possible in shorts that were too long, a pink fedora that kept falling over his eyes, and socks that kept slipping down his legs. All three of them stared at Dobby as he stopped in front of them, his tennis ball eyes bigger than usual in his oddly shaped head.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" the house elf squeaked. "I is looking for you everywhere!"

The Headmaster knelt down to face the elf. "What is it, Dobby?"

"Death Eaters, Professor Dumbledore, sir! There is been an attack!"

Hermione felt her heart sink into shoes as she leant down, along with Remus, to hear more of what the hysterical house elf had to say.

"Where has the attack been, Dobby," the Headmaster persisted, strangely calm.

The elf shook and trembled with fright. "I is not wanting to say, sir."

"Dobby," Dumbledore said warningly. "Tell me. Where has the attack been?"

The elf mumbled into his arm. "Dobby..." Dumbledore warned again.

"Grimmauld Place!" the house elf cried. "Grimmauld Place is attacked!"

For a moment, the room seemed to swim in front of Hermione's eyes. Her breath hitched and she felt her knees wobbling for a moment. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Remus stiffen and Dumbledore stand, but little else came to her notice. It seemed like an eternity passed before she could breathe again, but was, in reality, only a few seconds. She looked around herself in horror, finally focusing on Remus.

His face was miraculously still and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. She found it odd that he should be so calm, but, then, without any warning, he shot off towards the large main doors of Hogwarts with both Hermione and Dumbledore not far behind.

There we are! A chapter! Just for you! I promise to try to get the next chapter out quicker. Emphasis on the word "try." So, please review!


	12. Betrayal and a Punch

Bad, bad me. I suck. I'm a terrible person. But I can't say I'll never do it again, because I probably will. Unintentionally, of course. I always mean to write them up sooner, but then I always get stopped by some silly thing or other. I apologize profusely. But, well, I've got the next chapter for you. Yay.

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings, of course.

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**Chapter 12: Betrayal and a Punch**

Hermione continued to run down the empty corridors of Hogwarts, her heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. She could vaguely see the shape of her husband sprinting, ahead of her by at least 100 meters. She thought that she could hear the heavy footsteps of the Headmaster behind her, but she couldn't be sure. All that really seemed to connect with her was the feel of her heart beating and the sound of her gasping breath as she ran.

They passed many doors, many surprised professors, and many shocked portraits before they reached the outside doors. The resounding echo of huge wooden doors being open caught Hermione off guard, and she just caught her balance as she saw Remus continuing to run outside of the front gates. She followed desperately, finally catching him as he stopped against a tree right beside the gates.

"Wait! Remus, stop!" she called, clutching her chest in the hopes that it might make her breathing easier. "You can't just go to Grimmauld Place!"

He turned on her, his eyes blazing with fear and anger. "And why not?" he demanded, glaring at her, challenging her to come up with a good enough reason.

She fumbled for a moment. "There'sthere's a possibility thatthat some of the Death Eaters arewell, they could still be there and"

"Damn the Death Eaters!" he cried, flinging his hands in the air.

She glared at him for a moment, trying her best to keep herself under relative calm. He glared right back, but his eyes, she knew, were far more venomous than hers. Still, she was a woman and now was the perfect time to be as womanly as possible.

"You. Will. Not. Go." She ground out through clenched teeth, willing herself not to smack him 'round the head.

He leaned back from her, his eyes glittering half in danger and half in wry amusement. "Well, it's going to take a bit more than a tiny little witch like you to stop me when my daughter's in danger." His voice was like ice and all of a sudden, Hermione could not ever remember thinking him kind.

Before she had a chance to reply, Dumbledore caught up to them and slowed to a very dignified, if a bit uneasy, stop. He acknowledged Hermione quickly before turning to Remus. "I must insist that you do not leave Hogwarts grounds, Remus. Hermione may be right; the Death Eaters may still be lurking around Grimmauld Place. Even if Evie's in danger, it will do her no good if you manage to get yourself caught too." He gave Remus one of his ever famous glances from behind the half moon spectacles that were so easily recognizable as Dumbledore.

Remus turned to the headmaster, his eyes like fire, and surprised them all with his guttural, almost growling voice. "Bugger that." And he was gone with a slight POP.

Hermione stood shocked for a second, staring at the place that had once held her husband. She knew she'd have to follow. She gave Dumbledore an apologetic look before following Remus.

She reappeared on the street before Grimmauld Place beside a stock still Remus Lupin. She stared at him for a moment, wondering what could have him so unmoving. She followed his gaze towards the house and felt her knees begin to buckle at the sight that met her.

There was Grimmauld Place as it had ever been, old rundown and very depressing. But there was something different about it now. The bit of grass that was normally kept so perfectly trimmed by the perfectionist Percy was now trampled and flat from the fall of many feet. The normally restrictive and hugely ugly front door lay askew on only its bottom hinge. Worst of all, however, was the green skull floating five feet off the roof of the house.

She found herself as unable to move as her husband until he scared her out of her shock by running towards the door, shouting for his daughter. Hermione follows, at a slower pace, knowing that before she even gets in that the little girl will be gone.

"EVIE! Evie, where are you! EVIE?" She can hear his voice become more frantic as he goes through each of the rooms from the attic all the way back to her near the kitchen.

As he comes to her, his face a mix between horror and excruciating pain. She reached out to touch him, but he shrugs her off and gives her a sad deadened look before storming into the kitchen with only a slight touch of hope still lingering in his eyes to find his daughter within.

All hope vanished, however, once they were both inside. There was no sign of either Molly or Evie at all inside the ransacked kitchen. There were a lot of other people, though. A somber Percy and Fred stood side by side, their shoulders fallen even further at the loss of their mother, Snape stood at the table with a face grimmer than usual, the green haired Order member stood beside him with his eyes no longer filled with mirth, Harry and Hannah stood huddled together, Hannah nearly hysterical and Harry doing his best to comfort her. Remus turned from face to face, futilely trying to find anything that would tell him his daughter was still here. No one had the heart to tell him she was gone, but he knew it anyway.

He fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He clutched at his face desperately, almost to the point of injury, but did not cry. Hermione felt something contract in her chest and fell beside him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and trying to coax his hands from his face. He will not be coaxed. She can feel the tears well up in her own eyes, tears that had been too shocked to appear until now. Just as she realizes that she's about to start sobbing, Snape speaks.

"They're gone," he says in a voice that is not snide or cruel, simply tired. "I saw them be taken."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes threatening to spill at any moment. She tried to see any trace of emotion in the Professor's face, but he was simply still, like a carving of a sour and lonely man. "What happened?" she managed to croak out through her tears. Remus' body tensed, waiting to hear what Snape had to say.

"I had come to find out if there had been any new developments on our plan to find the rogue Death Eaters and other such trivial things. There hadn't been, but Mrs. Weasley had been kind enough to brew me a cup of tea before I left. I readied myself to leave, by Floo today, and stepped behind the fire screen into the fireplace. It was lucky for me that the screen had been there, or I don't think you would have had to worry about hearing this story, I'd be dead where I stand..." He trails off and everyone looks at him expectantly, but his face is a mask and Hermione thinks she can see a bit of regret in his eyes.

Harry, being the ever-impatient one, prompts Snape to continue. "Yes?"

Snape, being snapped back to reality from his thoughts, simply glares at the Boy-Who-Lived before continuing. "We were betrayed."

The simple sentence is enough to cause uproar in everyday life, but today, when the minds and souls of people have been so truly tested, it merely warrants a flinch. Then Hermione asks the unasked question in the silence that followed. "Who?"

Everyone turns toward Snape, awaiting the answer, hoping it is not someone they were close to, someone that had become not only their confidante but their friend.

He stares out at them with dull eyes and a grim set mouth. "A woman. A ministry worker. Marion Turner." The name was unfamiliar to everyone except, it seems, to Snape. He takes a breath and continues. "She's a few years ahead of you, Potter, a Ravenclaw. Pity she didn't use that brain of hers for something better than Death Eating. But even the greatest of minds have their weaknesses, eh, Lupin?"

Even Hermione, who always knew Snape to have a perverse joy of baiting those who could not stand it, felt herself shocked. Even Snape, greasy slimy evil Snape, shouldn't have stooped so low as to beat a man, an ally nonetheless, while he was the furthest down he'd ever been. Before she had a chance to react and scold the sour Potions Master, Remus leapt out of her embrace and stood before Snape, quivering in rage.

"You slimy bastard," Remus whispered, his nose mere centimeters from Snape's.

"Really, Lupin, I was only stating the fa" Luckily for everyone in the room, Snape was interrupted. Unluckily for Snape, it was by Remus' fist in his mouth.

"How could you just stand there and let them be taken! Why could you not try to stop them, try to keep my daughter here? If I or anyone else had been present, we would have fought, not hidden like some coward in the fireplace. You should have done something! You should have tried! Because of you, my daughter could be dead. Because of you, I could lose the one good thing that ever came out of this goddamned war!" He pulls back his fist for another well aimed blow at the Potion's Master, but is stopped by a sudden arrival.

Dumbledore strides in, as grave as he's ever been, and commands the attention of the entire room, just by being present. He comes to Remus and places a wiry hand on his shoulder and pulling the fist down to his side. Remus turns to the headmaster, ashamed at being caught stooping to physical force to get his point across.

With a look, Dumbledore subdues the apology that is about to come from Remus. "There is no need for us to fight amongst ourselves. There is time enough for fighting later. Right now there are more important things at hand."

With that said he turns to face everyone and beckons them to have a seat 'round the table before he begins.

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Well, there it is. Hopefully you all won't wait very long for the next chapter, but who knows what will come up next before I have a chance to get it up, eh? Well, anyways, read and review, please! 


	13. Castles and Observations

I know, it's been forever and I really, really am crappy, but that's ok. You guys always forgive me. I hope this chapter lives up to you expectations.

Disclaimer: Not mine, still JK's.

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Chapter 13: Castles and Observations

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"Both Molly and little Evie are alive. For the moment."

Dumbledore's words brought a great whooshing sigh of relief from the table. While they were not enough to completely dispel doubts from all of their minds, it was a start. Besides, if Dumbledore, fairly omniscient Dumbledore, said it, there must be some semblance of truth to it.

"They are, however, in danger. The Death Eaters know that these two are worth more to them alive than dead. While they are living and in their clutches, they know that many of you will rush to save them. It is a well known and clichéd plan, one we have faced many times over, but I fear that this time the ending costs could be more than any other time. It is best to proceed with caution."

He sat at the table with eyes no longer twinkling and long fingers folded thoughtfully beneath his long and crooked nose. The half moon spectacles that usually made the man appear wise and all knowing now only served as a clear mask to the uncertainty that was etched across his wizened features. Hermione found herself staring at him with a mixture of feeling between complete trust and rage at the fact that he knew so much and could do nothing to stop any of it. She turned her gaze away from him and looked around at the other occupants of the Grimmauld Place Kitchen.

Percy and Fred sat beside each other, looking very pale and almost death-like in their obvious exhaustion. She pitied them, these last hopes of a long standing house, and looking at them made her pity herself, but she envied them their strength. They'd been through more than should have been expected of them, and yet they still went on with life the best they could. They had done their best in adjusting to a world in which there were not numerous brothers to pester and love them, they had taken it upon themselves to marry their Muggleborn friends, and were now left to face the kidnapping of their mother, their one last tie to a happier time. And yet, they looked no worse for the wear. Not any worse than they had looked at Ron's funeral, she mused.

Across from her, Harry seemed to be holding up rather well, too. His face was stern and grim, but it was determined. If he ever looked like the heroic Boy-Who-Lived, it was at this moment. But, because she knew him so well, Hermione could just see the twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed him. She knew that if he had been alone, he would have been in tears within seconds. She admired his bravery before his wife, who was obviously having a way more difficult time grasping the truth of the matter. Ever emotional and sympathetic, Hannah was expressing everyone's feelings with quiet sobs and heavy tears and shaking shoulders.

Beside her, Remus was stiff and angry; she could feel the fury coming off of him in heavy waves that made her shiver, especially when she chanced a look at his eyes. The normally calm and gentle amber eyes were almost feral. His nostrils were flaring dangerously as he tried to calm himself with deep breaths. It wasn't helping and his fists were clenching and unclenching on the table in front of him. She reached out to touch his shoulder comfortingly but he flinched away from her fingers, fixing her with a hard glare instead. She winced and retracted her hand quickly and set it in her lap, following it down with her eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Snape looking at her. Defiantly, she turned to face him, daring him to make some snide comment. His eyebrow was arched questioningly and a smug smirk graced his features and he opened his mouth to say something. Hermione, with a bit of quick thinking stared pointedly at the corner of his mouth that was quite red and looked as though it might swell. His mouth shut with a sharp snap and he self-consciously touched the raising skin and gave her his famous glare.

"I know where they are."

Dumbledore's words bring Hermione out of her study of the room's occupants. Her head flipped about to face the aging Headmaster, just as did everyone's. There was an immediate uproar.

"You know?"

"Where are they--?"

"Why didn't you say--?"

"Is it near, sir?"

"What in hell made you not say?"

"Where is it, Professor?"

The Headmaster held up one grave hand in order to stop the questioning. Everyone closed their mouths immediately. He turned to look from one face to another before resting on Snape.

"Severus, my boy, what do you know of Ms. Turner?"

Snape sneered, revealing his stained teeth. "A most...idealistic woman. Young, I'd guess no more than 25. Was a Ravenclaw and, true to her house, possesses a most dizzying intellect at times. Pity she put it to such a use. If I were to guess where she makes her home, I would say that it's somewhere in Northern England. Her accent is distinctive to that area. She works with the Ministry's Obliviation Department, specifically with the branch that tries to keep some of the more curious Muggles from discovering about the more haunted places in Britain. She works at Raby Castle to keep the Muggles quiet about some of the attacks and tricks that the ghosts there are behind. During her off hours she can be found talking with Charles Neville, one of the ghosts, or..." he sneered, showing his obvious disgust, "thumbing through her Grimm's Fairy Tales book."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that's about what I know of her, too."

Harry was staring at Snape uncertainly. "How did you know all that about her? Were you stalking her or something?"

Snape gave Harry a withering glare. "No, I was checking up on her, making sure she wasn't a Death Eater."

Remus snorted. "Obviously, you missed something rather key, Severus."

Before Snape could retort with some biting comment, Hermione spoke up. "But, Professor Snape, you said she was a Death Eater, right?" Another withering glance, this time in her direction. "But, you also said she likes to read Fairy Tales. Grimm's Fairy Tales."

Snape sneered. "So the chit has disgusting taste in literature. What of it?"

Hermione was genuinely puzzled. "But...Grimm's Fairy Tales are...well, they're Muggle. Why would a Death Eater, a person who wants to rid the world of everything Muggle, be reading some of their own folk tales?"

Dumbledore looked up from his hands for a moment, an inquisitive twinkle in his eyes. "An excellent question, Mrs. Lupin. A most intriguing thought. Why _would _a Death Eater be reading Fairy Tales written by a pair of Muggle gentlemen? Most perplexing." He stood up rather nimbly for an old man and clapped his hands together almost cheerfully. "Ah, well, a thought for another time, perhaps, eh? After all, there are more important matters at hand." He turned to leave, but a thought struck him. He once again faced them, his eyes hard. "None of you will go to Raby Castle. No action on any of your parts is to be taken until I am sure that there is a chance. For once, we will not fly in with wands blazing. We will wait for the right time."

Remus stood abruptly to protest. Dumbledore set a calming hand on the werewolf's shoulder. "The time will come soon enough, my boy. No use in getting yourself killed in the process of rescuing your daughter." He stared into Remus' wild eyes. "Soon."

As he was about to leave, Hannah stopped him with her timid shaking voice. "Sir? W-why aren't we allowed to go to Raby Castle? N-not that I want to," she hurriedly added, cowering, after seeing the look on Snape's face.

Dumbledore, with his kindly smile, faced her. "Well, that's where Molly and Evie are, Mrs. Potter. Didn't I tell you that?" Vehement head shaking came from Hannah. "Ah, well, it must have slipped my mind. At any rate, that's where they are, and," he turned a calculating eye on Remus, "that's where they'll stay until I see fit to put the Order into motion. Do you understand?" While the question was meant to sound general, it was directed at Remus. He jerked his head in a reluctant affirmative. Dumbledore smiled slightly and turned and left in a swish of blue robes.

Hermione stood after the Headmaster had gone and took hold of her husband's arm as comfortingly and soothingly as she could. He brushed her off and took to pacing the kitchen. She tried to follow him and be as sympathetic as possible, but he ignored her to the point where she just returned to her seat.

"Where is he going, you think?" Harry mused aloud, a grim, but thoughtful expression on his face.

"Probably to get some Order members?" Fred guessed.

Percy nodded regally. "I would suppose that. Why else would he be leaving instead of simply leading us to the castle?"

Hermione shrugged. "Dumbledore's got his reasons. He always does."

She turned to look to her husband, hoping he would be more agreeable. He simply stared back, his eyes dangerously wild. She shivered and looked away. He's more determined to find Evie now than he was just a moment ago. With a determined tilt of her chin, she vowed not to let him out of her sight until plans had been made. She sighed, tilted her head towards Remus, and rested her cheek against her hand. It was going to be a long evening.

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There you are. I hope that'll satisfy you until the next chapter. I know it wasn't very good, but, oh well. I'm trying to get it done before I screw it up completely.


	14. Realizations and Departures

All right, all right. I know it's been forever, but, well, yeah, no excuses really except lack of motivation and HBP totally making me say that my fic was no longer relevant. But, oh well. It's now AU. Who cares? I don't. HBP changed so many fics that haven't changed for it, so why should I? Anyway, just so you know, I'm not changing anything I had already planned to make it fit HBP. Anything that I could add without changing my story is fine, but, as you can see, not everything goes with it.

Anyways, enjoy this next installment!

Disclaimer: All you recognize to J.K. Rowlings

Chapter 14: Realizations and Departures

Night had fallen by the time anyone made any real movements. It was as though, with the news of Evie and Molly's disappearance, everyone had sort of fallen apart. While none, save Hannah and Remus, were actually distraught, the rest of the kitchen's occupants were on the point of resigned and reluctant acceptance. As the hour continued to grow later, no one bothered to light a candle or make a pot of tea. The only movement within the entire room was the tapping of Harry's fingers upon the table, the heaving of Hannah's shoulders with either tears or sighs, and Remus' pacing about the room.

Hermione, with patience amassed over a period of years with Ron for a friend then husband, continued to watch his progress over the worn wooden floors, occasionally sparing a glance for Snape, who remained leaning against the door frame as he'd been nearly all evening.

For a moment, their eyes meet, Hermione and Snape. And, for that moment, Hermione begins to wonder. What's he doing here, the great slimy git? Hasn't he caused enough pain and torment for one night? She stares at him, feeling her eyes narrow and watching his do the same. While she may respect his ability in potions and he respects her ability in everything, they are far from fond of each other. So, when he begins to speak to Remus, Hermione is on her feet immediately and standing between them in the hopes that she may be able to block some of the cruelty that is sure to come forth.

"It's, er, regrettable that this should happen to your daughter, Lupin," he says awkwardly as he steps forward from the door. Hermione froze with shock. "She is only a child and a good one at that. I look forward to teaching her in a few years."

Hermione stood completely gob-smacked. He was trying to comfort Remus? Albeit, awkward and unpracticed comfort, but a sincere effort nonetheless.

She stared, wide eyed, as he made to leave. He paused at the door and turned around; seemingly unaware of all the incredulous looks he's receiving. With careful steps, he went 'round Hermione and stopped before Remus. With obvious hesitation, he finally managed to set his hand companionably upon Remus' shoulder. Hermione continued staring, especially when Snape failed to remove his hand after one, five, even ten seconds.

He stepped away then, again making for the door, but this time his eyes met Hermione's. And, before she has a moment to begin understanding what happened or why her cold and heartless professor suddenly found an ounce of caring, he was gone. As she continued to stare at the door he had left through, she knew that both Remus and Snape had solved (for the most part) their differences and that they may yet become companions, if not friends. And Hermione found a whole new caring within her for the taciturn and cold Potions Master.

Remus stood still for a moment before falling into the nearest chairs and breaking into heavy sobs. Hermione, broken out of her reverie, hurriedly followed suit and sat beside him, holding him close to her, despite any earlier reservations she may have had. Tears from his eyes wet her robes and she didn't mind, nor did she mind the tight grip he had about her waist or the feel of his uneven breathing against her neck. She only knew how to hold and continue holding until his cries would end, and if she happened to find comfort in the comfort she was giving, well, what was the harm in that?

After a while, the tears slowed before stopping, but still he did not move his head from the crook of her shoulder. Not that she minded. They didn't speak or move, but there was still something to be said for simple contact between two hurting people.

Then, suddenly, he stood, scaring Hermione half out of her wits. He turned to her, eyes still red-rimmed and wet, but determined.

"I will not stay here," he growled about the room. "I can't just sit here, helpless, when my daughter--" his voice cracked, "my daughter is in the hands of some--some, I don't know, monster, I guess is a good enough word." And with that he made a beeline for the door.

Still dumbfounded, Hermione knew little other than that Remus was trying to leave and Dumbledore had said not to. So, within a second, she was on her feet and racing him to the door.

"Stop! You're not going anywhere," she cried, as she blocked the door. "Dumbledore said not to!"

Remus' figure slowed before her. "Hermione, move." His voice was calm, commanding. She wavered for a moment, but held her position.

"No."

"Hermione. If I must, I will carry you from the door."

Her eyes narrowed menacingly and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd like to see you try."

He made to move for her, but she had her wand out and pointed at his head within the second. "Hermione." He was in no mood for such trivial play.

"You will not go, Remus. Dumbledore said not to."

"She's right, Remus," Harry said, from somewhere behind him, startling them both. For the moment, they had forgotten the others.

Remus whirled about to face him. "Damn Dumbledore!" he cried fiercely, causing the occupants of the kitchen to jump. "He doesn't have a daughter out there somewhere, alone and scared, maybe dead! I'm not going to wait for him to give me the go ahead to get my daughter. And if he has a problem with that, well, he can just go to hell." He turned back to Hermione. "Hermione, you've got a choice. You either continue trying to stop me and I won't care what harm I have to cause you to get by, and I will get by eventually. Or you can let me by so I can save our daughter!"

The room was suddenly silent. Hermione stared at him. In all the weeks they had been married, this was the first instance she could remember him bringing it up, even in a roundabout way. And, in that instance of realization, she wanted nothing more than to see Evie back at the table with a mess of porridge around her and broken dishes all over the floor.

She looked back up at him, tears in her eyes. After a moment to gain her composure, she spoke. "Get our daughter back, Remus."

He looks at her for a while, carefully and strangely. With a quick movement he grabbed her hands from her and held them to his face. With deliberate care he placed two kisses on the palms of her hands. She stared at him in surprise. Then, with a swiftness she could not expect, he has her gathered in his arms and is kissing her with a passion she has not known for weeks. In the short space it takes her to respond with her hands about his neck and her feet on tiptoes, the entire kitchen gasped in shock.

As they kiss, she felt tears on her cheeks, though whether they were hers or his she couldn't say. The lips on her mouth were warm and rough, but it doesn't bother her. The arms about her were anything but gentle and the fingers digging into the soft flesh about her waist were a bit painful, but she doesn't care. And when he released her, it took all her self control not to force him to do it again.

He looked at her fiercely, his lips swollen and his face wet with tears. His eyes searched hers, longing and desperate. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When they reopened, Hermione saw pain there and something else she couldn't recognize in him.

"I'm sorry," he croaked out. He released her. "I'm so sorry."

Hurt and uncertain, she looked back at him. And then it hit her.

He was saying goodbye. Just like Ron never got the chance to. He was apologizing for what had happened; what he had failed to do before and what he may now be failing to do later. She suddenly understood. He was trying to apologize in advance for not surviving. She stepped away, her head shaking fearfully.

"Don't apologize," she whispers. "Don't apologize for something you haven't done. You're going to come back, you understand? Even if I have to go there and bring you back myself, you're going to be here for me." Tears fell unchecked down her face. "I want to have a life with you, Remus! Don't you understand? I expect to be happy with you! I don't expect it to come immediately, but it will come, I know it will! And I will not lose you now, not when I've just found you!" She took a shaky breath and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Promise me," she whispered, looking back at him. "Promise me you won't be the martyr. Promise me you'll come back." Her voice is desperate. "Promise me you'll bring her back and stay here, with me. Promise me."

He shook his head, sputtering for an answer to give. "I can't promise you that, Hermione. I can't promise not to die. I can't make a promise I may not be able to keep."

She reached for him, grabbing his shirt in her hands. "Promise me." Insistent, she pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Without any hesitation, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. "Promise me." Her voice was now on the brink of pleading.

Sighing heavily, he held her close and set his chin down on the crown of her head. "I promise, Hermione, that I will come back to you." She let out a muffled sob and kissed him again, longer this time. When they finally broke, he took her hand in his and held it to his face for a moment before again placing a kiss on the palm. He released her and stepped back and went out the door.

Hermione, along with the rest of the room, followed him and watched him as he stepped out into Grimmauld Place's dingy yard. He turned to face her and, with a small sad smile on his lips, he said, "I'll come back, Hermione." And with a half turn and a sudden POP he was gone.

Hermione stood still; staring at the place he had last stood, knowing she should go back into the kitchen with everyone else, knowing that is what everyone wanted her to do. She felt the pull of it, the comfort that awaited her. But as she was about to turn around, she remembered a morning not so very long ago when she had done what everyone had wanted her to do, and the heartbreak that had come of it.

She remembered then, the urgency in Ron's voice, the need that drove him from their home that first anniversary. The broken promise that he would be safe. Tears rose unbidden to her eyes and her mind was made up. She would be damned before she would stay at home waiting for the people she cared about most to come home.

Her decision made, she stepped out of Grimmauld Place and out onto the lawn. With one last almost hesitant look back, she turned and apparated to Raby Castle.

And there you have it, my next bit. Only a few more chapters to go. Five, probably. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	15. Raby Castle

Well, here's the next chapter. Amazing how quick this one came out compared to the others, eh? I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize still belongs to J.K. Rowlings, as you all know.

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Chapter 15: Raby Castle

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With a POP, Hermione appeared in front of Raby Castle, a rather small construction (for a castle) that gave of the distinct impression of being haunted. But, they may have been simply because it was dark and the weather was wet which caused clouds of mist to form near the ground. From her view point, she thought she could see a flickering light in a few of the windows. 'Probably a candle,' she told herself. Then, just as she was about to make her way towards the doors of the castle, something grabbed her from behind.

Before she had the chance to scream, a hand was placed roughly over her mouth as the figure pulled her behind a bush. She was set down roughly, and turned to face her captor, eyes wide with fear.

"Shh..." the man said, as he gently took his hand from her mouth.

"Remus!" Hermione hissed, annoyed that he'd frightened her and even more annoyed that he currently was looking over the bush instead of at her. "You scared me half to death! Why did you do that?"

He looked down at her with his mouth in a hard line. "I could ask the same thing of you," he whispered, his voice hard.

She flushed sheepishly, but didn't answer. He sighed and seemed to be fighting the urge to give her a small smile. "But, you're here now and, if I know anything about you, there's no sending you back," he continued. "Besides, I haven't the time to take you back. So, despite my misgivings, you're in."

With a small triumphant grin, she squeezed his hand. He turned to her sternly. "That doesn't mean I'm not gonna give you one hell of a talking to when we get back, though," he finished. Her grin vanished.

"We have to get in there," he said after a period of silence. "They've got to be in that room, the one with the light. At least in one nearby." Hermione nodded in agreement. "I'll go in through one of those windows near us and work my way in. You, though, you're the best I've ever seen at a Do-Not-Notice spell, so you wait here for someone to come through the front door. It shouldn't be long. There's been a lot of activity around here. They come and go fairly regularly. You're lucky you didn't apparate right in the middle of a group. When someone opens the door, sneak in with them. We'll look around the castle; one of us is bound to find them before we get caught."

She stared at him incredulously. "That's your plan? 'One of us is bound to find them before we get caught'!"

He turned to her, his eyes and face set. "Unless you have a better idea, that's what we're doing."

Indignantly, she opened her mouth to respond, but just then the front door opened and a pair of cloaked figures stepped out onto the walkway. Hermione glanced at them for a second before turning to Remus. He took her hands in his and looked her in the eye. The look he gave her was nothing short of promising, promising to see her again, promising to come back.

With a swiftness she didn't know she possessed, she took out her wand and cast the spell on herself. Once unnoticeable, she leaned forward and kissed him without thinking how strange it must have been for Remus to be kissing someone he couldn't see. She let go of him reluctantly and tiptoed away from the bush to position herself near the two beside the door.

"She should be here soon," one said gruffly to the other as he leant against the closed door. "Though why she needs an escort is beyond me."

The other shrugged. " 'Is orders. And you know 'ow 'e is about 'is orders."

"That doesn't change the fact that I'd rather be inside with a pint instead of out here waiting for the snobby bint to show."

"She's important," the other answered. "And 'e likes 'er. Besides, at least we don't 'ave to sit and watch the two up there." He pointed above to the lit room. "From what I 'ear from Desmond, they're a right pain, especially the kid."

"Yeah, well, I still say I'd rather have a pint."

"And you'll have it," came a woman's voice from the darkness before the two and Hermione. "As soon as you take me to him."

The woman stepped into the light cast off by the castle and Hermione had to stifle a gasp. It was the woman, the mysterious and husky voiced woman from the meeting! Though Hermione had suspected all along that it was the slightly creepy woman, she was dismayed to find out. She had hoped the member who had betrayed them would be someone she hadn't seen or known about.

"Right, then," one of the guards said. "It's about time you showed up, Miss Turner." She merely smirked at him, still waiting for them to open the door.

When they had, she looked around her and Hermione was not at all comforted when the cool eyes landed on her and the slightest trace of a smile touched her lips. But, she berated herself for being silly. She was unnoticeable, no one would see her. She fell into step behind them quickly as the walked into the castle.

It was too dark for Hermione to appreciate the stonework or decorations, something she was rather grateful for as it was a distraction she could ill afford. The group traveled in silence to one of the nearby rooms. The two opened the door for Ms. Turner, but didn't come in with her. Hermione, having to make a quick decision, chose to stick with Ms. Turner and dashed into the room just before the door was closed.

Inside, the room was very old fashioned and decorated to the times the castle had been in its prime. A hooded man sat before the fire that had been made on the hearth. He did not turn when he heard the door, but he beckoned for the woman to come forth. Hermione kept close on her heels, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hooded man, but the light emanating from the fire wasn't enough to brighten the shadows that covered his face.

"You did well, Marion," he told her in a smooth voice that Hermione vaguely recognized. "We have been trying to find their headquarters for years. If Lord Voldemort had known it would be that easy to infiltrate them, I'm sure he would've done it years ago. Still," his voice grew heavier, "our findings were disappointed. I have no need or desire for the child or the old woman. It's the mudblood chit I want, the one who married the werewolf. She's the one I want to be rid of. She's foiled more of our plans, her and that late husband of hers as well as the current one. While the Weasley boy is taken care of, I've still got her to contend with."

The woman did not falter. "She will be easy enough to get, my Lord. Especially now that you've got the child and the woman. She cares for them and will come after them. It's very likely that she's planning with the Order now to retrieve them."

He turned to her sharply, the shadows still obscuring his face. "Do you know this?"

"I have an idea."

The look between them was significant, but Hermione did not know what it would mean. There was no way that she could know of Remus' plan. Even the Order was fairly ignorant of what they were doing, though for how much longer Hermione wasn't sure.

Finally, their impromptu staring match ended and the man stood. He began to walk towards the fire, turning his back on the woman. "I am peckish," he told her. "Would you be so kind as to go to the kitchens and bring me something suitable?"

"Certainly," the woman responded. And, with a flurry of skirts and cloaks, the woman was gone through the door, closing it softly behind her.

Hermione stayed still, uncertain of what to do. She wanted desperately to know who the man was, but didn't know how to proceed. She stared at his back, tall and straight with strong narrow hands clasped neatly behind him. He sighed softly, almost chuckling, as he unclasped his hands and reached into his cloak's inner pocket. He drew out a thin wand and waved it with an incantation Hermione did not recognize.

She stared at him in confusion, and then looked about the room for a sign of what he had done before finally reverting her eyes back to him. He turned around slowly and reached for the brooch that fastened his cloak and hood about himself. He undid it and pulled the garment off.

Hermione gasped as expensive robes were first revealed followed by platinum blond hair, then the sharp pointed features and, finally, the icy blue eyes. Those eyes locked on her menacingly as a slight smile graced his unnervingly handsome features.

"Fancy seeing you here, Mrs. Lupin," he drawled.

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Well, I hope you liked it! The next one's already on it's way, but school's been piling it on, so it may be a bit yet. Just warning ya! Please review and tell me what you think! 


	16. Discoveries and Duels

Sorry it's been awhile. No excuses, I promise. Just the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish it were. All to JK Rowlings.

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Chapter 16: Discoveries and Duels

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Hermione stared at the aging, yet still intimidating, Lucius Malfoy, Minister of Magic. He stood, sneering at her, glad to have surprised her. She did not know how to react. This was the man who'd ruined the life of her late father-in-law, who'd been behind Voldemort during the entire War, the man who'd been responsible for everything wrong that had been happening in the past year. And suddenly, reacting was no longer an issue.

"It's you!" she screamed. "You're the one! You--you're behind all of the rogue attacks! But-you--why? Don't answer that. You took Molly and Evie! You've ruined my life with that stupid law! And you're supposed to be the Minister of Magic, the one person who's supposed to unite the Wizarding world, not destroy it!"

"Ah, well, that's where your understanding of the position goes astray," he drawled. "Every minister we've ever had does things for themselves before they worry about the rest of the population. Fudge took my money rather than attempt to control the Ministry's antics and Scrimgeour was far too interested in having Harry's name with his that he completely disregarded the Ministry. I'm simply keeping up a longstanding tradition." He picked at his fingernail nonchalantly.

She stared, trying to find the words to accuse him or to hurt him, but none came to mind. She spluttered for a moment, trying to find her words, before he began to talk again.

"You know," he began as he stepped slowly towards her, "you have been a thorn in my side for years, Mrs. Lupin. Always so close to being out of the way, but you manage to slip from my grasp each an every time. But this time, however, you've made things spectacularly easy." He smirked. "I had not expected you to come after the child and the old woman so easily. I had supposed that Dumbledore would have come up with some cunning plan or other, that I would easily foil, and then you would be so distraught as to be caught with little ado. But apparently your senses have been dulled by the death of your husband. You've saved me a lot of trouble, my dear."

She stared at him, stunned, but there was still enough of the old Hermione in her to bring back her famous ire. "What do you want?" she hissed. "What do want with me, why am I so important? What could I possibly know or do that could help you?"

He laughs at her naiveté concerning her own value. "You're so important, dear Mudblood. I should think it to be obvious. You're a genius, despite your blood. A mind of your caliber hasn't been seen since the Dark Lord himself was in power."

She sneered at him for a change. "I'm sure that just completely fuddled with your completely idiotic views on Muggleborns."

He ignored her. "We, the leftover loyal, wanted to capture you in order to use your intelligence as an ally rather than an enemy. I want to use your mind for our cause."

The mention of a "cause" sparked something within her. She became ruthless in her questioning, in her attacking. "And what of this supposed Voldemort? This heir to his own sordid throne?"

For reasons she could not completely fathom, he began to laugh to the point of incapacitation. "Are your wits so dulled by the loss of your pseudo-daughter? Can you truly not see it?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to tell me or continue insulting my intelligence that, need I remind you, you seem to be in desperate want of?"

"As you wish," he responds good-naturedly, at least, as good-naturedly as a Malfoy could ever possibly achieve. He took his wand and pointed it towards her face, muttering a charm Hermione could not catch. Suddenly, to her horror, the features of his face began to distort. The lovely features that had been the whisperings of many dorm-room fantasies during her years at school were suddenly being pulled back into his face, the eyes changing red and narrowing menacingly, the surprisingly full lips thinning to a line, his elegant nose shrinking into slits as his porcelain-like skin took on the hue of a corpse three weeks dead. Her breath catches in her throat as the combination of features begins to strike a familiar chord in her memory.

"You're..." she managed to sputter before succumbing to the shock.

Before her stood the figure of a man, no, creature, that she had only seen once before in her life. Before her was the face of the most feared personage ever to darken the Wizarding world. And when the thin mouth opened to dispel the voice of the new scourge of wizards and witches alike, she could not contain her fear.

"I am the new Lord Voldemort." He casually unbuttoned the sleeves of his expensive clothing and rolled them up to his elbow. When finished, he smirked at her uncharacteristically surprised face. He fell into a dueling position gracefully, still smirking. "Prepare to duel, Mrs. Lupin."

He gave her practically no time to catch her senses before hurling a curse in her direction. She barely had the sense of mind to dodge it, so addled was her mind and thoughts. She dove across the ground, bruising her elbow on the edge of an antique end table.

He straightened, noticeably pleased at her inability. "Come now, my dear Mrs. Lupin, surely you can do better than that. Remember, I too was at that final battle and I remember clearly you incapacitating nearly a dozen of my comrades in less than an hour."

She stood shakily, still trying to make sense of what she'd seen, but the determination in her eyes had returned. "And I distinctly remember that your son was one of those dozen," she managed to say. "How is he doing in Azkaban, Minister? Are the dementors seeing to his needs?"

The anger in Lucius's eyes snapped dangerously. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Mudblood." He threw another curse at her which she easily sidestepped before returning one of her own.

"Maybe not," she conceded, after giving a few more curses, one of which connects and causes a distracting cut on his brow, the blood dripping in his eye. "But I do know that he's getting simply what he deserves."

Lucius could not contain his anger, and retaliated with a band of hexes that managed to throw her against the wall and making an audible SNAP! sound in her chest along with a sharp pain. 'A rib,' she thought as she stood carefully, one hand holding on to her left side.

"Besides, I'm sure I could say the same of your late husband," Lucius continued, after a few more minutes of heated dueling.

For a moment, she stopped, her chest heaving and her eyes ablaze. "Don't you dare talk about Ron," she hissed.

He took a slightly casual pose, eying her as though he could see which words caused the most damage. "Why ever not, my dear Mudblood? Too painful, is it?" And they began to duel again, more fiercely than before. As she leaned against the wall, after once again being thrown into it, and he wiped the trail of blood falling from his mouth, he began to talk again.

"He was nothing, really. Just a Weasley. There are ever so many more of them." He laughed derisively. "Actually, I suppose there aren't, are there? Most of them have gone the same way as your dear Ron, haven't they?"

She threw herself from the wall and began to duel again in earnest. "Don't ever talk that way about the Weasleys!" She gave off a curse that pulled his legs out from under him, making him hit the floor with a dull thud.

He stood quickly, more agile than she would normally have expected of a man so many years her senior. Then, with a well placed Expelliarmus, her wand was gone into his hand. "Do you want to know something, my dear sweet Hermione?" his voice fairly dripped with false familiarity.

She held herself up carefully, panting heavily. "What could you possibly have to say that could ever interest me?"

He sneered, his teeth shining red with blood. "Your beloved Ron? He died at my hand." She breathed in sharply, causing a flash of pain to erupt in her chest. "I killed him. And I enjoyed it."

In that instant, she went berserk. She forgot completely about the fact that she didn't have a wand, and that he was far larger and more able bodied than she was. She ran at him, her mind a blur. She threw herself onto him, pushing him down and clawing at his face, screaming and sobbing the entire time. It did not take him long to free himself of her, and when he did, he stood over her. He fiddled with his wand almost absentmindedly, still watching her carefully. She could feel the tears on her face and the hate in her heart, an emotion she thought she'd ever feel so forcefully.

"Strange that I should kill two Weasleys with the same wand, one after the other," he said quietly. "Almost poetic, don't you think?" And he took careful aim at her.

She could not even manage to be upset. She would be joining Ron. But a nagging thought entered her head. How ironic that it should be her begging for the return of her husband, making him promise to live, and then she should die before he ever has the chance to keep his promise. She looked up at him, dull and unseeing.

"Avada Ked--"

Suddenly, for reasons she could not begin to fathom, he slumped forward, his head brushing against her legs on the floor. She looked up in bewilderment, surprised to see a floating rock in the place where his head had been moments before.

"What--?"

And then, there he was. Remus, wand outstretched, appeared in the doorway. He rushed over to her, puling his wand down and causing the rock to crash to the floor.

"Hermione!" He knelt beside her, searching her for damaging curse remnants. Uncertain of how to react, she simply let him look. "Hermione! You silly, stupid girl. Fighting him by yourself! The Dark Lord, Hermione! You could've been killed! You almost were! How could he be alive, really? And what were you thinking, trying to take him on? Hermione!"

"I--but Remus. It's not really Voldemort." She put her hand to her face, trying to gain some semblance of control over herself. "It's--"

But she stopped mid-sentence, surprised by the people stepping through the door. "Molly! Evie!" There they were. Molly was completely disheveled and a bit uncertain in her footing, but still managed to hang onto a grubby Evie. Even the normally stoic Hermione could not hold in a cry of relief.

She stopped Remus in his search for injuries and pulled him close to face her. "Thank you, Remus."

He looked at her, his face dirty and more tired than she could ever remember seeing it. "For what?" he asked, his voice soft and kind. She had to fight to hold in her tears.

"For returning to me. Just like you promised."

He flushed slightly under the layer of grime covering him. "Really, Hermione, it was no--"

But she stopped any protest or denial he could have made by kissing him soundly.

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Well, there it is. I hope it lived up to your expectations of the long awaited chapter. There are very few chapters left and I hope to have them to you ASAP. But no guarantees! It will, thought, be finished! I promise!

Well, review, please!


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